Liar Liar
by MusesOwnMyMind
Summary: When Alison DiLaurentis disappeared, the entire world seemed to turn on its edge, throwing those of us who knew her into a tailspin as easily as if we were simply leaves blowing about in the wind. What many did not know, however, was that her disappearance would subject some of her closest friends to the type of scrutiny that, were we not careful, could very well ruin our lives
1. Chapter 1: Memories

_(Labor Day, 2009)_

"Are we really doing this?"

"Why wouldn't we be?" Spencer questioned; turning to face where I sat perched on the edge of the bed, and lifting a brow as she paused in the act of applying mascara "It's our last night of freedom before school, and homework, practice—"

"Because when we told her about it, Alison didn't even seem like she was remotely interested in showing up at all" I retorted; scooting back a bit on the bed, and folding my arms across my chest as I watch Spencer manage an eye-roll before turning back to her makeup "What? You know I'm right."

"Yeah, and I also know you're still mad at Ali for what happened before she left to visit her grandma."

"Wouldn't you be?"

"Of course I would, but you two have always worked through these sorts of things before—"

"Those sorts of things were nowhere near what she did before she left" I protested; lifting a hand to shove a few locks of unruly brown hair away from my face, and watching as Spencer inspected her appearance in the mirror above the dresser "And again, I go back to how unenthusiastic Alison seemed when we brought up the topic to begin with."

"Well even if she doesn't show, we can still have some fun with the other girls, right?" Spencer countered; her features softening into a smile as she takes in the sight of her easy victory written upon my own expression. Obviously, she had to have known that she would win even before the entire conversation had ever started. But not even that seemed to be enough to dissuade her from backing in the win, regardless; my own smile toying with the corners of my mouth as I nod, and toss her the tube of lip gloss of my own that I know she adores.

"I hate you sometimes; you know that, right?"

"Just like I know you love me."

"You seem pretty confident in that supposition."

"I am."

Unable to resist the urge to laugh, in spite of my nagging unease over the upcoming evening's events, I haul myself off of the bed, and pad over to the dresser myself, my face screwing up into an expression of moderate disgust as I take in my appearance and exhale in a gust of air. I had not slept very much last night, partly because of my preoccupation with Alison's odd behavior upon her return, and partly because somewhere along the way I had inadvertently downed too much coffee—and that reality appeared to have already taken its toll, if the bags beneath my hazel eyes were any indication…

"You want some help with your hair?"

"It's going to take a lot more than a fancy hairdo to fix this mess."

"Still—worth a shot, right?"

With a nod, I find that I am all too quickly turning back towards the bed, while Spencer grabs a brush and some of the makeup she had just used for herself; another sigh escaping as I take in how eager she appears to be able to help. Of course, I appreciate the gesture, even as much as I recognize its impending futility. And perhaps it is for that very reason that I allow myself to simply close my eyes while my shoulders relax just a bit; the sensation of the foundation brush ghosting along my cheekbones causing me to flinch before I finally give my consent to something I never even had a chance to refuse.

"Go ahead, Spence. Do your worst."

I know I don't really stand a chance at refusing her anyway…

…

"You look tense, Ava. Drink up" Alison cooed; smiling at me as though she has forgotten what happened between us prior to her departure, and shoving a glass of tequila towards me so that I really have no choice but to take it "What's got you so down?"

"Nothing."

"Really? From where I'm sitting, it doesn't look like nothing."

"Yeah, well it is. Can we just drop it already?"

"Ouch. Someone's cranky" Ali pouted; reaching over to nudge my shoulder, even in spite of the way in which I try, albeit belatedly, to move away before she can do so "Maybe you'd better keep that glass all to yourself."

"Am I hallucinating, Alison, or are you trying to get my sister hammered?"

"So what if I am? It's not like you're going to rat us out to your parents, right?"

"I will if you're forcing her to do something she doesn't want to do" Spencer pressed; sharing a look with me that spoke volumes before turning towards the rest of the girls and attempting to change the subject "Did anyone download the new Beyoncé video?"

While the rest of the girls all chorused various replies, and Ali zeroed in on Emily for seeming a bit too eager about the subject matter, I took the time to mouth a silent thank you to Spencer for saving my metaphorical bacon; the smile she gave me in response relieving me at least a little bit, and giving me enough reassurance to take a sip of the proffered tequila. The liquid burned a bit—actually, more than a bit, as it slid down my throat, and caused tears to sting at the backs of my eyes. But somehow, even in spite of that, I couldn't quite bring myself to care; my posture relaxing for the first time since we had all ventured out to the barn as I lean back against the chair I have chosen for the evening, and take another sip.

If only I had known that one sip too many would have rendered me unconscious for the very moment that all of our lives would change, and not for the better…

…

**Hello there, my lovelies! And welcome to yet another foray into one more fandom (as if I didn't already have my hands in enough of them, right?) I can honestly say the blame for this little guy falls entirely in the lap of a coworker who got me hooked on PLL a few weeks ago—and you all know me, once I start a new show, the muses usually aren't all that far behind.**

**As always, my heartfelt thanks go out to each and every one of you that has taken the time to read this initial chapter, and give it a chance! I truly hope that you did enjoy what you found—and I encourage anyone who is willing to leave some feedback on what you thought! Love it? Hate it? I'm anxious to hear, because I'd hate to keep working on something that no one wanted to read.**

**Until next time (I hope?)**

**MOMM**


	2. Chapter 2: Celebrations and Threats

_(One year later)_

"Hey Ava, have you seen my bag?" Spencer called; the sound of her footsteps rather quickly following her inquiry, and causing me to suppress a smile as I turn to face the doorway of my bedroom, and manage a shrug before I reply.

"Not around here, no. Did you check downstairs?"

"Yeah, and in the car. I can't find it anywhere."

"Well you can always use one of mine" I suggested; turning back to my closet as I continue the search for a pair of jeans, and exhaling to ease some of my unanticipated nerves at what the upcoming day might entail "Actually, I'm pretty sure you might find a twin to one of yours in my other closet."

"Fair point."

While Spencer began the task of rummaging through my other closet, I finally settled on the jeans I would wear on our minor excursion to the mall; and permitted my attention to stray towards finding a suitable shirt. Of course, it didn't really matter what I picked, in the end; particularly as both Spencer and I would be changing almost as soon as we got home, so that we could meet our parents, Melissa, and the fiancé at the Grille—

To say I would have rather stayed at home, reading, or watching something mindless on the television would have been a drastic understatement, all things considered.

It wasn't that I didn't want to spend time with my family, but with the way both Spencer and I knew Melissa could get when she brought home a new boyfriend, there were about a million other things that would be more pleasant than listening to our older sister brag non-stop about how she easily won his heart.

"Hey—you okay?" Spencer inquired; the suddenness of her decision to break the silence rather effectively startling me out of my internal musings and forcing me to turn back to face her directly before I reply.

"Yeah, I—I'm fine. I just got a bit distracted."

"With today?"

"You could say that."

"I guess it's kind of hard to pretend you don't remember when the front page of every newspaper has Ali's face plastered all over it."

"I don't necessarily want to forget, Spence" I began; exhaling, and scrunching my shoulders in a half-hearted attempt at easing the tension that had taken root between them before attempting to elaborate further "I just wasn't prepared for—"

"For Alison to be everywhere?"

"That's part of it."

"Well what's the other part?"

"Would it make any sense if I said I really didn't have a clue?"

"Sort of" Spencer admitted; moving away from my closet, and towards the bed so that she can perch on the edge, and fiddle with a stray thread on the comforter while attempting to explain "I mean, it's not like I'm especially aware of how to react to all of this either."

"Wow. There's a first."

"Shut up."

"I love you too, Spence" I quipped; finally managing a laugh as I move towards my bed as well, and gently shove her so that she moves aside, clearing a space for me to sit beside her "You haven't—none of the other girls have contacted you, have they?"

"Nope. Not a one."

"Is it wrong of me that I sort of wish they had?"

Sighing, Spencer leaned over so that she could bump her shoulder against my own, while simultaneously reaching for my hand to give it a squeeze; her eyes meeting mine although I really would have preferred avoiding direct eye contact, given the situation. Spencer always had possessed a rather uncanny ability to figure out what I was thinking, even before I had the chance to figure it out myself. And now, like all those other times before, she appeared to be doing exactly that.

"Maybe we'll find a way to reconnect once school starts."

"Yeah. Maybe."

"Do me a favor and try to sound a bit more enthusiastic, would you?"

"Easier said than done."

"Well can you at least try to be chipper enough to help me pick a shirt for tonight?" Spencer pleaded; squeezing my hand once again, and grinning as she realized I had caved already, before she even broke a sweat "Ha. I win."

"For now" I retorted; pulling away, and standing so that I can head back to the closet to make a grab for my boots "I'll get you back later, though. You can bet on that."

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

Nothing like a little good-natured competition to change the mood…

…

"Ava? Ava Hastings?" A familiar voice called; startling me out of my feigned interest in the skirts I had been investigating, and forcing me to turn to face the source, while my eyes blew wide "I thought that was you!"

"Hanna?"

"Who else would it be, Aves? The Loch Ness monster?"

"Ooh, now there's a thought."

"Shut up" Hanna retorted; laughing along with me as she pulls me in for a hug before I have a moment to react to the gesture at all "I've missed you! I thought you would be busy being an over-achiever along with Spencer."

"Actually, she's around here too" I said; turning to locate my sister, and finding that she had already moved to the upper floor to look at what appeared to be a fancier selection of tops "We came here together."

"Do you two ever do anything _not _together?"

"Only very rarely."

"So what was it that finally brought you two out of isolation?" Hanna pressed; moving to stand beside me and peering over my shoulder to investigate a shimmery black skirt that I have taken a partial interest in "And why don't you actually just get a dress?"

"A dress?"

"Yeah. Class it up a little bit."

"Class it up?" I repeated; lifting a brow in obvious skepticism, and replacing the skirt on the rack before going on "Are you trying to suggest I'm not classy enough already?"

"Well you did accidentally call me the Loch Ness monster—"

"That was a joke, Han."

"I know" Hanna enthused; giving my shoulder a light nudge, and turning to follow me as we head towards the escalator to meet up with Spencer "That doesn't mean I can't give you crap about it, does it?"

"No, I guess it doesn't. Not that it would stop you even if it did."

"You know me too well."

"You say that like it should be a bad thing."

"Some might say it is, Aves."

"Oh? Like who?" I mused; turning to face Hanna where she stood beside me on the escalator, while simultaneously reaching up with one hand to adjust the strap of my purse where it rested on my shoulder "Hanna, has someone been bothering you?"

"It's nothing."

"Hanna—"

"Really! It's nothing" The blonde repeated; toying with a lock of hair, and taking the last few steps on her own, before the escalator could fully reach the upper floor "We need to find you a hot dress so that you can finally one-up Melissa in front of her new boy toy."

"Please, like that's even possible" I protested; rolling my eyes for Hanna's benefit, even though I am forced to smile at the prospect, all the same "No one one-ups Melissa. That's essentially a law."

"Yeah, well, some laws were made to be broken—and I think I saw a little red number earlier that would absolutely knock the new guy's socks off if he saw you in it…"

…

_(Early Summer, 2009)_

_"Ava, what the hell are you staring at?"_

_"Nothing" I replied; jerking my head around, and trying my best to ignore the flush that rose to my cheeks in response to Alison's demand "I just saw a weird looking cloud, that's all."_

_"Did that weird looking cloud happen to have a name?" Ali pressed; lifting a brow, and sending me a look that said in no uncertain terms that she knew exactly what I had been doing, even if none of the other girls had caught on. Truthfully, she didn't even seem perturbed when I narrowed my eyes at her in an attempt at getting her to shut it, at least until we had an opportunity to speak privately—but of course, subtlety wasn't exactly Alison's style. I knew that, as well as I knew my own name._

_"Yeah, Ali. I think it was a cumulonimbus."_

_Spencer was the only one that laughed at my rather pathetic attempt at a sarcastic remark, of course; though Aria and Emily both managed a smile for my sake, even if they weren't entirely aware of my hopes to divert Alison away from the topic at hand, or the reasoning behind those hopes in the first place. I had done my best to keep my activities outside of what pertained to our little group a secret; though apparently Ali had figured me out rather easily. And, in spite of my desire to keep that secret as best I could, I was unable to completely dissuade Alison from her apparent need to rattle me; her blue eyes zeroing in on me once again as though hoping to see through my façade if I still refused to come clean._

_"Well you know what they say about staring at the sun—look too long, and you might get burned."_

_"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"_

_"What do you think it means?"_

_"Okay, guys, can we cool it? Please?" Aria begged; rolling over to recline on her back, and shaking her dark hair over her shoulders to get it out of the way of the sun's rays as they darkened her skin bit by bit "It's already hot enough out here without you two starting an argument."_

_"We're not starting an argument, Aria. I'm just trying to get Ava to be honest about what she's doing, that's all."_

_"I am being honest—"_

_"Doesn't sound like it."_

_"Guys! Seriously!" Aria exclaimed; hauling herself into a seated position, and looking between both Alison and myself for a moment with exasperation written clearly upon her features "Can we change the subject?"_

_"Yeah, I'm with Aria. There's got to be more to talk about than this" Hanna agreed; obviously uneasy with the turn the afternoon had taken, and seeking to redirect it however possible "Like the new line of Coach purses for one."_

_"I'll take that action."_

_Relieved that the girls seemed to have taken the change in conversation with surprising ease, I permit myself the slightest bit of relaxation; my eyes shifting to meet Spencer's where she sits across from me on a lawn chair, with both arms crossed over her chest. It would have taken a blind person to miss that she was obviously upset, though for her own sake, I truly wished she wasn't—_

_It wasn't that I didn't appreciate the backup, but I still persisted in the wish that it wasn't even necessary to begin with._

_Regardless of what I might want, however, I had learned long ago that with Alison DiLaurentis, I more often than not, never got it—and perhaps that was why I found myself exhaling as my shoulders slumped from their strained position for the first time that evening while I averted my gaze towards my toes as they scrunched into the sand to absorb its warmth._

_All I had to do was survive the day, and then I would be at home, away from Ali's persistent gaze…_

…

"I have to say, sis—you clean up nice."

"Thanks" I replied; unable to entirely resist the questioning expression I direct towards Melissa as I nurse a cup of tea, and lean against the doorway that leads from the kitchen to the outer patio where our parents, Spencer, and Wren are gathered in conversation "You too."

"Why do I get the feeling that you're not exactly being sincere?"

"Maybe because you're overthinking?"

"Or maybe it's because you're every bit as upset with me for taking over the barn as Spencer is" Melissa supplied; moving to stand directly across from me, and taking a swig of wine as though she wished to steady herself before going on "Look, the two of you will have plenty of time to be out on your own after graduation."

"So what, you intend to stay in the barn for a few years?"

"If that's how long it takes to redo my place in the city—"

"I guess that's good to know."

"You know, Ava, I thought that between the two of you, you'd actually be the one to be happy for me in all of this."

"Sorry. I'm thrilled" I stated; rolling my eyes as Melissa's expression hardens, and taking a small sip of tea before attempting to amend my faux pas "Really, Melissa. Congratulations."

"Thank you, Ava."

"Any time."

For her part, Melissa seemed to remain a bit suspicious, as though she saw through my attempt at fixing my mood, and how it had almost made a mess of things; but before she could make any effort at questioning me over that suspicion, I found that I was saved by my father's approach from the patio, a smile gracing his features as he looked between myself, and Melissa, before he spoke.

"Dinner's almost ready. Ava, why don't you go help your mother get everything prepared, okay?"

"Yeah—sounds good, Dad" I agreed; pushing myself away from the doorframe, and turning to head back towards the kitchen proper, while simultaneously noting that mom had already begun dishing out the pasta onto the plates surrounding the stovetop. Almost as though it could sense the impending meal, my stomach gave a loud gurgle of approval as the smell of tomato sauce and garlic hit my nose, full-force. But just as I had been prepared to move forward to begin passing out the plates, an insistent buzz came from the pocket artfully sewn into the side of my dress; effectively causing me to pause and withdraw my cell phone, while whatever breath there had been in my lungs choked off in a strangled gasp.

_You and Spencer have a lot in common, Ava. You both have a thing for older guys. Remember, I know everything; and I'm not afraid to tell.–A_

Saying anything would have been impossible, at that moment, as I hurriedly shoved my phone back into my pocket, and tried to redirect my attention to the plate my mother was handing me so that she would not notice my sudden distraction, even though it must have shown upon my features. In a manner of seconds, I had gone from feeling like I might just make it through the evening, to feeling as though all the air had been sucked out of my lungs; and it would never ever return. No matter what I did, I could not seem to regain the oxygen I needed to keep the burning sensation out of my chest—

Who else knew about Jason and I besides Ali? And who the hell was 'A'?

Something told me getting to the truth would only be the tip of the metaphorical iceberg; and I was not even sure I wanted to reach the top at all.

…

**Well hello there, my lovelies! And welcome to the second chapter in our tale! I can honestly say I was blown away by all the positive feedback that the little introduction chapter received, and I cannot thank you all enough for being so receptive! It is appreciated more than you know!**

**Special thanks of course to my lovely reviewers: Hope10, Princess1, Lady Bird, Guest, Warriorqueen, Pllfan, and Guest2! I'm so glad that you all like the story thus far, and I can only hope that this chapter is equally as enjoyable as the last! As always, I cannot wait to hear your thoughts!**

**Until next time, dears…**

**MOMM**


	3. Chapter 3: Reunion

_(Christmas Break, 2008)_

_"Do you always look this down over the holidays, or is it a new trend?"_

_Jumping at the unexpected sound, I whirl from my position leaning with both hands resting palms-flat upon the counter; my eyes widening as I realize I have just come face to face with Ali's older brother. Almost instinctively, I peer around him, seeking to ensure that no one else, his sister included, is about to intrude on what I would prefer to keep as a private encounter. And, although I am well aware that no one is around, at least for the moment, I still find that I am exhaling a shaky breath; my eyes drifting up to meet Jason's, albeit hesitantly, as I squish myself back against the counter, and take note of the minute smell of alcohol that wafts from him as he steps closer and speaks once again._

_"Wow. You're usually never this quiet, are you?"_

_"I just—I didn't expect to see you here."_

_"Yeah, I know I'm usually not supposed to be seen when Ali has her friends over" Jason retorted; crossing his arms over his chest, and giving me a look that might have actually frightened me, had I not known that his harsh reply came from something other than anger. Were I to be honest with myself, I would admit to wanting nothing more than to reach out and touch him—to let him know that not all of his sister's friends found him as much of a laughing stock as he believed. But, regardless of my own wishes, I remain motionless, at least for the moment; a sigh escaping me before I gather the wherewithal to speak._

_"From where I'm standing, it always seemed as though you preferred being locked away in your room."_

_"Maybe that's just what I wanted you to think."_

_"Then what is the reality?"_

_"Do you really want to know?"_

_"Let's just say for argument's sake that I do. Would you actually tell me the truth?" I pressed; folding my own arms against my chest in an attempt at mimicry, and lifting a brow as I await his reply._

_"I guess that would depend on what I would get in return."_

_A flush adorns my cheeks before I can stop it in response to Jason's remark, and I find that I am once again taking a step back against the countertop, though I truly have no further to go; my back bumping against the edge of the counter, and causing me to gasp as I watch Jason step still closer with a smile that seems to suggest he knows exactly what his presence is doing to me, even if he pretends otherwise._

_"Relax, Ava. It's a joke."_

_"Yeah, well you make it kind of hard to tell."_

_It's Jason's turn to sigh, at that, though admittedly he does a better job of making it less obvious than I did just moments prior; his eyes holding mine even in spite of my desire to be looking anywhere else. Though I truly don't mind looking at him, at least when no one else might be watching, I know that I do not dare indulge—not now. _

_I know well enough that if Alison walks in, I may not be able to keep her quiet a second time…_

_"Listen, I just—I just came downstairs to get some popcorn" I managed; finally succeeding in ducking out from between Jason and the kitchen counter, and padding over to the cupboard even in spite of the soft chuckle I hear coming from behind where I stand._

_"Hey, Ava?"_

_"Yeah?"_

_"That's not where we keep the popcorn."_

_Heaving a sigh, I discover that I am once again forced to contend with the burning of my cheeks as I turn to face Jason once again; and grant him a roll of the eyes that I hope will mask my uncertainty as he rummages through another drawer and pulls out a packet of what I had been searching for in a last ditch effort to secure a reason for being downstairs to begin with. A partial frown tugs at the corner of my mouth, in response, as though I am almost disappointed in the idea of actually having an excuse to return upstairs, and leave him behind. But just as I am prepared to take the popcorn, and head back upstairs to use the microwave Ali keeps in her room, I find that I am stopped short by the pressure of Jason's fingers curling around my wrist, so that he can pull me towards him, with his free arm looped about my waist._

_Before I can react, or attempt to pull away, his hand has removed itself from my wrist and lifted to rest instead against my cheek; the pad of his thumb brushing lightly against my cheekbone while he simultaneously leans forward to brush his lips against my own. It would have been a lie to say I was not tempted to simply ignore the packet of popcorn as it falls from my hand, and lands upon the floor; particularly as I am now aware that I am tasting the after-effects of rum as he kisses me. But as though reality sought to mock me, I became poignantly aware of Alison's voice, hollering down to me, and effectively forcing me to yank myself away from Jason's hold on my frame as the flush I thought I had abandoned once again returns to my cheeks._

_"Ava, where the hell is that popcorn? I'm starving!"_

_"Sorry, I—I need to go" I stammered; my teeth coming out to worry at my lower lip, as I remove my hand from Jason's chest, and stoop to pick up the popcorn I had so negligently dropped. Though this wasn't the first time I had found myself caught up in something that I could barely understand, let alone justify, I was still every bit as powerless to ignore the thudding of my heart against my ribcage as I had been the first time._

_The first time that should have been the last time, had I possessed any powers of self-control at all…_

_With that thought in mind, I pointedly ignore the way Jason is watching me as though wishing he could keep me downstairs with him, and away from Ali; and although I would be a liar if I pretended that I did not wish the same thing, I force myself to hurry towards the stairs and take them three at a time to get back to Alison and our other friends before I miss too much of the movie she's chosen for us to watch._

_Ali had made no secret about how she would go to my parents if she found me with Jason again, and I would be damned if I gave her the chance; no matter how much it cost me to hide what I truly felt…_

…

Shaking myself from my internal musings over the past, I redirect my attention towards the history book that rests, still open, on top of my bed spread; a sigh escaping as I realize I have not a clue where I had left off reading, before becoming so easily distracted. Though I know that my former friends, Hanna especially, would tease me relentlessly for starting up on the studying before classes had even technically begun, I had snagged the book from the bag beside my desk anyway, more in an effort at distracting myself from distant memories than anything else.

From the looks of it, though, my efforts had completely failed; my attention span hardly even permitting me to read through a paragraph before it was drifting back to something I had initially hoped would be long forgotten.

After that night with the popcorn, I had hardly even glimpsed Jason for nearly two weeks; and it had been hell pretending like that did not matter. Of course, I had known better than to fall back on that decision; particularly as Alison would no doubt have gone barging up to my parents at the first sign of weakness. But even with that knowledge, I had still found it near to impossible to keep up appearances, and play the role of Alison's dutiful friend; especially given the fact that she was the one to make such a thing necessary in the first place.

She had driven a wedge between Jason and I, and even if she had been right—even if the only reason he had taken an interest in me was due to being under the influence of drugs and alcohol, that did not stop me from hating her for what she put me through.

All too soon, however, a knock on the door effectively startles me from my thoughts; my heart rate spiking just a bit as I roll over on the bed, and swing my legs over the edge.

"Come in."

In response to the call, the door swings open, albeit hesitantly; and I find that I am greeted with my mother's rather concerned expression as she shuts the door behind her almost as quickly as she had opened it, before moving to join me on the edge of the bed. Just by looking at her features, I know that I stand relatively no chance of passing off a lie regarding what happened at dinner earlier this evening—

Honestly, though, there is a small part of me that isn't sure I want to tell her anything _but _the truth; particularly as she fixes me with her trademark 'tell all' look right before she speaks.

"So, do you want to tell me what that text was all about before dinner?"

"Are you going to get a search warrant if I don't?"

"Lawyer humor—nice try" Mom stated; softening the potential blow of her words with a half-smile, and reaching to nudge my history book aside so that she can move to sit a bit closer to me in response "Care to try again?"

"Yeah, I—I just got a text from a wrong number, that's all."

"That's all? It seemed like more than that at the time."

"That's all, Mom. I promise" I assured; glancing down towards where my mother has grasped my hand and given it a squeeze, and inhaling as slowly as I dare to avoid giving her a reason to doubt my sincerity "It just startled me because I thought I had turned my phone to silent."

"Ava, you know your father and I would prefer you and your sisters to keep them off your person when we're eating as a family—"

"I know. I just forgot."

"That seems a bit unlike you, sweetie. Are you sure everything's okay?"

"Yeah, everything's fine."

"Ava—" Mom persisted; the furrow that I know so well taking form between her eyebrows, and causing me to smile almost against my will as I return the squeeze she had given my hand just moments ago.

"Really, Mom, you've got nothing to worry about."

"Would now would be a good time to rescind my attempt at offering dessert, and a rerun of Law and Order, then? Looks like you were starting to hit the books pretty hard."

"No. No, you know what, I think I'll join you" I countered; aware of how my mother's attention had drifted towards my history book once again, and reaching over to snap it shut before I haul myself off of the bed to follow her back downstairs. Realistically, I know I shouldn't be signing up for this, especially as the smart thing to do would be to simply head to bed early, in preparation for the first day of school. But I am also very much aware of the fact that if I stay up here alone, in my room, I'll either end up spending the rest of the night rehashing old history, or rereading the text from earlier this evening over and over again.

Either way, it doesn't look like I'll be getting much in the way of sleep.

…...

The following morning, I find myself chugging what has to be my fourth cup of coffee while I lean back against the chair of my desk, and flipping through the pages of the notes I had taken on what little reading I had managed to complete at breakfast. Of course, my attention wasn't truly on the haphazard scribbles that I had made in my notebook, since my eyes kept drifting towards the classroom door, while my heart jumped in anticipation of seeing my former friends each time someone walked through that door—

Not that I had the first clue what to say, if any one of them made eye contact with me…

My encounter with Hanna at the mall notwithstanding, I can honestly say that I am very nearly terrified at the prospect of seeing everyone again; particularly as we have hardly spoken since Ali's disappearance, and Aria's departure with her family not long after. Of course, I missed them—all of them—more than I could ever possibly put into words. But even in spite of that realization, I could not entirely shake the thought that perhaps we had all been through far too much to ever make it back to how we used to be.

As though encouraged to appear as a result of my wayward thoughts, I find that as I look up at the door for what feels like the thousandth time, my eyes inadvertently lock onto Emily Fields; my teeth coming out to worry at my lower lip until I discover that the student entering the classroom directly behind her is none other than Aria Montgomery.

"Aria?"

"Ava—oh my god!" Aria exclaimed; stepping forward at the same time that I stand from my desk, and pulling me into an embrace that is perhaps a bit tighter than either of us might have anticipated "What are you doing here?"

"I—I have this class first period, too?"

"Right—uh—sorry. I guess I'm still a bit jet-lagged."

"Seems like it" I agreed; a grin stealing over my features as I realize that Aria appears to be every bit as uncertain of our reunion as I am "How was Iceland?"

"Amazing! If you want, I can show you some pictures at lunch—" Aria suggested; sharing a glance with Emily that makes it all too clear that she is every bit as uncertain of my reaction as I am, and consequently prompting me to manage a nod before I reply.

"Sounds great!"

With one final smile that appeared to hold a bit less hesitation than it had just moments prior, Aria stepped around me, and made her way to her own seat with Emily in tow, and my own attention moves back towards the classroom door as Hanna Marin walks in just seconds later. Her eyes lock onto mine in next to no time at all, of course; the smile she gives me very obviously genuine, before she saunters over to her desk, takes a seat, herself. Right behind her, like always, Mona plunks herself down in the sight beside Hanna—and I soon find myself suppressing a smile as I duck my head back down to feign interest in my notes while Aria's shocked voice rings out from behind where I sit.

"_That's _Mona?"

It looked like I wasn't the only one who had been stunned at the makeover Mona had enacted not long after Alison's disappearance…

…

"So" I began; plopping down in the chair across from Hanna, and sending her a tentative smile before I turn my attention to Aria as she takes a seat beside me, opposite Emily "Where are these pictures you were talking about?"

"On my phone" Aria replied; twisting slightly in her seat to rummage through her purse, and creating another momentary lapse in conversation that sets me on edge, in spite of how I know I truly have no reason to be. Risking a glance at Hanna where she sits across the table, I can tell that she can feel it too—the eerie sense of déjà vu with the four of us gathered around the same lunch table—but before I can come to grips with that particular facet of reality, I discover that my attention is once again diverted by Spencer's arrival, her eyes almost immediately meeting mine before she speaks.

"There you are—I've been looking all over for you!"

"Aria has pictures from her time in Iceland" I said by way of explanation; scooting my chair a bit closer to Aria's so that Spencer can grab one of her own from a nearby table, and take a seat on my opposite side "I may or may not have strong-armed her into showing them to me."

"Good job."

"Thanks."

"Well it's good to see that hasn't changed" Emily commented; sending both Spencer and I a smile, and leans on the table to get a closer look as Aria plops her phone down and begins to swipe through the apps until she finds the camera "You two and your teasing, I mean."

"That sort of thing tends to happen when you're forced to live under the same roof for the majority of your lives."

"Hey!"

"What? It's true" Spencer persisted; nudging me with an elbow, and leaning over so that her shoulder brushes mine as Aria locates the first of the pictures "Oh wow, that's gorgeous—"

"Yeah, that's actually one of my favorites."

"And you guys all look so happy" Hanna added; sharing a smile with Aria, and appearing to remain oblivious to how the brunette's expression has an almost brittle quality, as though perhaps she is not disclosing the entire story "I actually sort of wish I had gone along with you."

"Careful what you wish for. If my Dad gets his way, we might end up going back."

"Really?"

"He's definitely made no secret of not being entirely thrilled to be back in Rosewood" Aria admitted; shifting just a bit in her seat, and exhaling in a shaky sigh before elaborating further "To be honest, I—I'm not entirely sure I am, either."

"Because of Alison?"

"That's part of it."

"And the other part?" I inquired; crossing my arms in front of me on the table, and tilting my head in the hopes of making my question seem a bit less probing. I truly do wish I could ignore the nagging sense that Aria is holding something back, particularly as I know very well that my own curiosity and drive to get to the bottom of a problem will make it almost impossible to ignore. But as though seeking to mock me where I sit, fate decides to make Aria fall into a momentary silence while her formerly cheerful expression fades; and I find that I am suddenly leaning a bit closer to the girl who sits beside me, staring at the latest picture on her cell phone, before I speak again.

"I'm sorry, Aria, I didn't mean to pry."

"You're not. Prying" Aria reassured; reaching over to squeeze my arm, and seeming to shake herself from whatever mental reverie she had just been indulging in just enough to manage a faint smile "I'm sorry, I guess I'm just still adjusting to being back here at all."

"Well I, for one, can't blame you. Rosewood is probably like the most boring place on earth to you, now."

In response to Hanna's assertion, I find that I am now inadvertently lost in my own momentary reverie; the recollection of the text I had received the evening prior causing my stomach to tighten, and subsequently making the next bite of the sandwich I had been nursing impossible. I hadn't even told Spencer about the text yet, much less anyone else—and although some small part of me wondered if I wouldn't feel better if I _did _come clean, a larger part was utterly terrified that if I did, it would make it all far too real.

With the newspapers throwing the anniversary of Ali's disappearance in everyone's faces, I had already faced enough 'real' for the day, anyway…

The sound of the bell that signifies the end of lunch rings, then, effectively startling all of us back into some semblance of action, while Aria stuffs her phone back into her bag, and the rest of us gather up the remnants of our lunches to deposit them in the trash can by the door, before heading back to class. Whatever camaraderie had pulled us together has obviously just evaporated like fog does on a humid day just after the sun dissolves it all away—and although I want nothing more than for us to stay linked, like we used to be what felt like ages ago, I know that perhaps it is simply not meant to be.

For what it's worth, though, it seems like I'm not the only one wishing for such a thing; my eagerness to dump the contents of the lunch tray I carry in the trash halted for just a moment as I realize Hanna has frozen in place, and decided to speak.

"Hey, do you—do you guys want to get together after school? Maybe meet up at the Grille?"

"Han, I'd love to, but I have swim practice."

"And I promised my Mom I'd take Mike to lacrosse—"

Though I do have to give Emily and Aria some credit for doing their best to appear chagrined over having to turn her down, that still doesn't stop me from feeling a slight sense of panic as Hanna's attention turns towards me; my heart doing a strange little lurch as I realize my honestly sincere denial will probably sound hollow after the others. After all, I know very well that out of all of us, Hanna had always been the one to take what people said to heart.

Even now, after a year apart, I can't stand the idea of bringing her down. I mean, it wasn't as though Alison hadn't done that enough…

"I've got dance after school" I began; already aware of how Hanna's shoulders seem to deflate for just a second, before I hurry to suggest an alternative "But I wouldn't be against dinner afterwards."

"Great! Text me when you're free?"

"Of course."

With that plan made, I find that at least some of the weight on my chest eases; a shaky exhalation passing my lips before I even realize it, before I offer Hanna one final smile and turn to head towards the doorway that leads back to the rest of the school, proper. I know, of course, that things will never be the way that they used to be, no matter how many of us may wish for it to be even remotely possible.

Still, it's worth a shot, and I'll be damned if I let Hanna down, no matter how tentative the renewed connection between us might be.

…

Stifling a sigh as dance practice finally comes to a close about forty-five minutes later than usual, I hurry to my bag located in a far corner of the studio to begin the act of tugging on my street clothes; one hand rummaging in the side pocket of the bag I brought along as soon as it's free so that I can reach for my phone to text Hanna about dinner.

Of course, I had never anticipated that I would be choking back what had to be disappointment as I press the button that lights up the screen, and read the text that punctures my hopes for an evening away from home like a pin to a balloon.

_Can't do dinner tonight, Aves. Something came up. Resched?_

Tossing the phone back into my bag, I pull on my boots, while simultaneously chewing absently at my lower lip. Honestly, I had probably been looking forward to dinner more than I had fully realized—but now, with that prospect over, and the nagging suspicion that a reschedule might not, in actuality, ever happen, I find that I am left with nothing else to do but throw my bag over my shoulder, and head for home on my own.

Already, my mind appears to be straying its way back to the mystery text I received roughly twenty-four hours prior, a shiver causing goose bumps to show up on the skin of my arms while I fold them across my chest, and press my shoulders forward in an attempt at curling in on myself. In spite of the mugginess of the evening air, I find that I really can't seem to get warm, even though I speed up walking down the street, in hopes of persuading the sluggish blood in my veins to move a little faster.

For some reason, I cannot shake the feeling that I will never be truly warm again; and that troubles me far more than I care to admit.

As though I think getting home any faster will make that feeling go away, I cut through the alleyway between the donut shop, and the coffee place Spencer and I always hit up each morning for a latte; my eyes remaining glued to the ground as I skirt around piled up boxes and yesterday's trash bags. Already, I can hear the comments I would receive from both Mom and Dad for taking this route—that I'm lucky I even made it home alive, what with all the lowlifes that like to skulk around in those alleys once the sun goes down. But before I can spend too much time wondering over how my decision just might have been a poor one, the shrill scream of an ambulance siren cuts through my internal musings; causing me to jog a little to get clear of the alley, just in time to see the red and blue lights flashing around the corner.

Flashing around the corner, and heading towards Emily's house…

Breaking into a run, I round the corner the ambulance just took at a speed that ought to have made it go on two wheels; my heart thudding along in my chest, as though I had never actually been active a day in my life. For some reason, I can't seem to catch a proper breath, even in spite of my determined attempts at doing exactly that. And perhaps that is what has me slowing to a brisk walk as I grow nearer to Emily's home; the sight of the ambulance, and several police cars lurking across the street suddenly seeming insignificant in comparison to the bold lettering on the side of the van that is parked directly across from where I stand.

_Coroner_. Oh God.

Once again, my eyes flick to Emily's yard, my shoulders sagging as all the breath I had been holding in escapes out of me once I see that she is standing not on her own property, but on her neighbor's, looking every bit as lost as I feel, with both arms folded against her chest in a gesture that has to be an attempt at softening the blow of whatever has just happened. For a moment, I find myself torn between letting her deal with this privately, and rushing over to comfort her like I used to what felt like ages ago. And then I see it—the girl that I know is in no way related to Emily pulling her into a hug, and my decision is made.

Whatever this is, I'm going to help. I _have _to, and that's all there is to it.

With that in mind, I hurry over to Emily's yard, ducking around the scattered cars, and first responders until I reach her side; her hand almost automatically reaching out to latch onto my own before she speaks in a hushed whisper.

"They—Ava, they found her."

"Found who? Em, what are you talking about?"

"Ali. They found Ali's body" Emily elaborated; the waver to her voice suggesting that she had come so very close to believing that the word 'found' had a different connotation—that she had done exactly what she could now see so clearly on my own features; and she knew exactly how it felt to discover that supposition had been wrong all along "She's—she's really gone."

Before I can react, I find that Emily is suddenly clinging to me as though I am the only thing keeping her sane; her shoulders shaking as the sobs take over, and she finally loses the composure that she has been trying to maintain for the entire evening. Truthfully, I want nothing more than to do the same—to let the sting of the tears that are beginning to gather in my eyes go free—but as inexplicable as I know it is, I force myself to swallow all of that emotion, even though it makes me cringe as it settles like a dead weight in the pit of my stomach. For a moment, my eyes meet the new girl's, and I realize that she appears to be almost upset that I am the one consoling Emily, and not her. But before I can do anything to even remotely analyze that realization, I find that I am distracted by two uniformed men wheeling a stretcher towards the street from around the corner of Ali's old house; my body going taut with the tension that had been at bay by some miracle ever since her disappearance exactly one year ago.

Balanced on the stretcher almost precariously, as though it had just been haphazardly tossed there without a thought, was a black body bag; and even with as much as I wished I could feign ignorance, I knew exactly whose body that bag concealed.

From that point, I have exactly ten seconds to gently push Emily away before I am turning on a heel, and darting towards the shrubbery along the side of the house while the contents of my stomach land smack dab on the grass at my feet…

…

**Hey there, darlings! And welcome to yet another new chapter! I have to say, this one sort of got away from me, and I can't promise that every other chapter to follow will be as long (though I can certainly try to make it so!). I just couldn't see a logical way to end it until after they find Ali's body, so I hope that I didn't drag it out too much!**

**As always, my heartfelt thanks go out to each and every one of you that has taken the time to read, follow, favorite and review this story so far! I truly do appreciate the support, because I would be nowhere without it. Special thanks of course goes out to my reviewers on the last chapter—Hope10, Princess1, Lady Bird, Guest, Warriorqueen, Pllfan, Guest2, and Guest! I'm really beyond thrilled that you are enjoying the story so much, and I hope that this chapter only continues the fun!**

**Until next time my loves…**

**MOMM**


	4. Chapter 4: The Funeral

The next thing I know, I'm seated in Emily's living room, with Mrs. Fields worrying over how pale I look, and forcing a glass of water into my hands with a tentative smile. Although my hands have not stopped shaking since seeing the stretcher get loaded into the back of the coroner's van, I take the glass; the water wobbling around inside it, and threatening to spill over the sides and onto the carpet until I reach up to grasp it tightly with both hands, instead of just the one. Unable to meet her gaze for very long, in spite of the very obvious concern in her features, I drop my eyes down to the glass I am now holding instead; the acid taste that remains in my mouth prompting me to take a sip, and close my eyes as the cool liquid dulls the fire, at least for now.

"Thank you, Mrs. Fields."

"Anytime, honey" She replied; reaching down to give my shoulder a squeeze, before moving to sit across from me, and beside Emily on the couch "Are you sure you don't want me to call your Mom?"

"Positive. I mean, Spencer's probably already told her what—what happened—"

"Still, I'm not sure you should walk home on your own. You seem pretty shaken up."

"Mom, if Ava says she's fine, she's fine" Emily interjected; tempering the potential harshness of her words with a squeeze to her mother's knee, before she stands, and plops down next to me, instead "She just needs a second to regroup."

"Ava?"

"Yeah—yeah, Emily's right" I managed; swallowing another sip of water, and closing my eyes as I momentarily engage in a silent war with my throat as it tries to close around the liquid, and cause me to choke. I know well enough that Mrs. Fields is not about to let me go home if I give her the impression that I can't even handle a simple sip of water. And so, with a level of determination I wasn't entirely sure I had, I square my shoulders and down just a bit more water, while simultaneously feeling the slightest bit of pride in the fact that I am actually able to succeed in drinking it normally.

"Really, Mrs. Fields, I'll be fine. But thank you for the offer, anyway."

"Of course, Ava. You know you don't have to be a stranger around here, right?" Mrs. Fields persisted; the intensity of her observation unnerving me just a bit, though I do put forth my best effort at avoiding a squirm so that she doesn't get suspicious "You're welcome here any time."

"I know. And I—I'll try my best not to be so absent" I replied; leaning forward to place the half-empty glass of water I am holding on a coaster, before attempting to stand "But I really should go home, before my Dad sends out a search party—"

"Of course. You're sure you're alright to walk back home on your own?"

"I'm fine, I promise. Thanks again for—for everything."

Though I can tell that she is still half-tempted to keep me on her couch until one of my parents can arrive, I make a point of moving towards the foyer, while still endeavoring to avoid appearing rude; my boots suddenly taking up the act of clicking rather loudly on the flooring, and causing me to jump as I become aware of the transition from carpet, to hardwood faster than I had anticipated. For a moment, I find that I am closing my eyes, my breath leaving my lungs in a shaky rush, before I gather the wherewithal to square my shoulders and continue moving forward.

With as jumpy as the simple sound of my own heels on flooring has made me, I am absolutely terrified that anything else will be too much for me to handle; and I am _not _willing to let either Emily, or her mother in on the fact that I am barely holding on by a thread.

In an effort to avoid letting on to exactly how nervous I am, I hurry to reach the front door; only sparing a second to send one last grateful smile towards Mrs. Fields before descending the porch steps, and moving towards the sidewalk. Though I am fairly certain I have nothing left in my stomach to get rid of accept the little bit of water I had taken to appease Mrs. Fields, I can feel the nausea resurfacing, regardless—a fact that has me forcing myself into a jog, if for no other reason than to get behind my own closed doors before I risk breaking down completely.

Alison was dead. _Really_ dead. And in spite of how I knew that I ought to be feeling some manner of relief that her family might finally be able to get some closure, I cannot seem to get past the strange constriction in my chest, as though I will never be able to take a satisfactory breath ever again. The sensation is very nearly panicking, although I somehow manage to make it to my own home without losing any speed; the manner in which the front door opens has me freezing for a moment, until my eyes meet my Dad's, and I find that I am suddenly over the threshold, and clinging to him for dear life, as the sobs finally break free and I can do nothing but weather the storm…

…

_(January, 2009)_

_ For what felt like the thousandth time, I turn over on the air mattress that Alison's mother placed on the floor of her daughter's bedroom; my eyes instinctively seeking the pale glow of the alarm clock as I attempt to discern the time. Though it felt like three hours ought to have passed, I find with some chagrin that only half that amount of time has really gone by since Alison and I decided to abandon the research paper we had teamed up for, and gone to sleep—_

_Or rather, she had gone to sleep, and I had remained awake, worrying over exactly why she had chosen me as her partner, when she knew damned well that Spencer would be more of a guarantee when it came to getting a perfect score._

_Were I to be honest with myself, of course, I knew very well what Ali's motives had been, particularly as I had the misfortune to catch the satisfied smirk she had given me before plopping herself down at the desk beside mine in class earlier that day. It was a smirk that meant she knew something—that she knew everything that would be sufficient to land me in a heap of trouble, if she decided to disclose it. And although I would have loved nothing more than to back out of the team assignment, and choose someone else to work with, I knew that if I did, it would be the end of whatever secret Ali would claim she was keeping for my sake this time._

_ A sigh escaped as this thought took hold, my eyes moving away from the alarm clock, and fixing instead upon the ceiling while I squirm a bit further down under the relative warmth of my blankets, and adjust my position on the pillow. Although I am, quite frankly, exhausted, both from the typical demands of schoolwork, and the efforts required to act as though I had no interest in Alison's games, I know somehow that I will not be sleeping tonight—_

_I would be a fool to pretend that such a realization was not almost enough to bring me to tears._

_Squeezing my eyes shut to avoid just such an occurrence, however, I choose instead to roll over onto my side; one hand reaching to take some of the blanket with me so that I can tuck it beneath my chin. I cannot explain it—the lingering chill that seems determined to sink into my bones at the prospect of the exact magnitude of the damage Alison could cause for me, if she decided that she wanted to. But although I am wary to admit the sort of power that she appears to have over me, I find that I am forced to do exactly that; another sigh escaping as I realize that Alison has me exactly where she wants me._

_She knows, as well as I do, that if I balk at the completion of this project, it means I do have something to hide from her; and I would sooner deal with her taunts and passive aggressive remarks than risk exposing not only myself, but Jason as well to the consequences of yet another one of her games._

_Unable to shake the apprehension that steals over me upon consideration of that very thought, I find that I am suddenly hauling myself to a seated position from beneath the blankets, and flinging them aside; my movements only pausing for long enough that I can determine Alison is not about to wake up before I am securing my feet beneath me, and stealing over towards the bedroom door. Though the room is by no means overly warm, I would be a fool to pretend that I did not feel as though I were suffocating anyway; my hand latching onto the doorknob as one might snatch a life vest, so that I can open it as slowly as I dare, and slip out into the hallway beyond._

_As quietly as I had opened the door, I move down the hallway and towards the stairs; my feet tentatively testing each one to avoid the occasional creaks they so often gave when climbed without due caution. From the room directly behind me, I can hear a tell-tale snoring; signifying that Ali's father is sound asleep, and her mother likely is as well. And, in hopes of keeping it that way, I proceed to pad down the steps until I reach the main floor; my muscles relaxing just a bit as I realize I am just inches away from the front door, and fresh air that I crave more than anything else._

_Just as I reach the door, however, I find that I am freezing in place as a sharp crack reaches my ears, coming from somewhere close to the living room; my heart hammering away rather erratically as I drop my hand back to my side, and turn as slowly as I dare to face the interior of the house once again. Instinctively, I attempt to slow my breathing, almost to the point that I am holding my breath completely—and although the act causes my lungs to burn just a bit, I persist while simultaneously risking first one step, and then another, down the hallway that leads to the location of the sound; one hand tracing along the wall as though I hope I can somehow sink into it if I find that I need to for protection._

_As if that could really help me anyway…_

_Steeling myself as I proceed down the hallway, I come to another momentary halt just as my toes brush against the carpeting in the living room; whatever tension I felt in anticipation of what I might find when I arrived rather quickly fading away as I realized the source of the noise was none other than the individual currently sprawled on the sofa. With a sigh, my eyes move from Jason's frame, to the table beside where he rests, and the beer bottle that now rests tipped on its side which is fortunately empty; and as quickly as that, my body unfreezes itself, and I enter the room, skirting around the sofa, and reaching out to right the toppled beer bottle before any of its contents can spill on the floor._

_And of course, that's when I smell it—the barest hint of marijuana that hides just underneath the smell of alcohol—and although I know I really shouldn't be, I find that I am cursing under my breath as I back away from the sofa, and try to ignore the sinking sensation that fills my chest as I realize that what Jason had told me about getting clean was apparently a lie._

_"Dammit, Jason—what the hell were you thinking?"_

_As soon as the words leave my lips, of course, I realize that I really do need to get him up to his room, knowing full well that if his parents find him in this state it won't be good for either of us. For him, because it would be one more straw added to the till until the camel's back finally broke; and for me, because I couldn't stand the idea of the enforced separation that would occur if he was sent to rehab._

_God, I am in way too deep, here._

_Regardless of the mild frustration that such a thought provokes, however, I find that I am still bending down to place a hand tentatively upon Jason's shoulder; the gesture provoking an almost immediate jump, and causing me to withdraw a few steps as he comes to grips with his surroundings. Almost immediately, his eyes meet mine; recognizing me, even though they are still rather significantly bleary—and although I would be a fool to pretend that I was not tempted to take the hand that he has extended to pull me down beside him, I shake my head, my heart sinking a bit within my chest as I note the almost instantaneous dejection that moves across his expression as a result._

_"We need to get you upstairs."_

_"Upstairs?"_

_"Yeah—you know, that part of your house that's a level above this one?"_

_"Smartass" Jason mumbled; the slight tug of a grin against the corner of his mouth provoking one of my own as I step just a bit closer towards him, and permit him to loop an arm around my shoulders while he stands. Rather foolishly, I cling to the hope that I can ignore the weight of his body as he leans on me a bit for support; though I do succumb to the urge to place my own arm around his waist, while my other hand moves to his abdomen—and although I know that I have no real way of succeeding in getting him up the stairs, and into his bedroom without waking either his parents, or Alison, I cannot quite bring myself to care._

_After all, what I'm doing now doesn't really qualify as anything other than helping someone in need, right?_

_With that in mind, I shift just a bit so that we can turn to head back towards the stairs; another soft laugh escaping as Jason uses our proximity to bury his nose in my hair, and causes me to flinch just a bit in response. Even intoxicated, he seems pretty well aware of what he can do to me, if he really puts his mind to it—and although I know that I should be upset over the circumstances, and how he has so clearly fallen off the wagon once again, I know that I really can't._

_No matter what, I just can't seem to stay angry with him; and I don't really know what that says about my own moral character, to be honest…_

_Forcing myself to shove that question aside for later consideration, though, I focus instead on guiding us both towards the first step; the sensation of Jason's arm tightening around my shoulders giving me reason to believe that he was perhaps a bit less self-assured than he wanted me to believe._

_"You good?"_

_"Yeah."_

_"You're sure?" I pressed; risking a glance up at Jason, and biting my lip as I realize that he appears to be more than satisfied that we have temporarily stopped moving "What?"_

_"Why are you so worried?"_

_"Why the hell wouldn't I be?"_

_Although I really wished he would, Jason appeared to have absolutely zero idea of a suitable answer to that particular question; his eyes searching my features for some sort of reassurance, it seemed, and just as quickly finding none. I really haven't got the faintest idea of what he could have expected; especially since it's not like I have any idea of how to handle my own feelings, in this situation. But in spite of that, I force myself to redirect my attention to the task at hand, my eyes drifting back towards the first step before I speak._

_"Ready?"_

_"Sure."_

_Just like that, we both resettle our priorities on reaching the top of the stairs, though for my part, with much less enthusiasm; my feet nearly catching on the carpeting of the steps a few times while we move. Naturally, each time that happens, Jason's arm tightens its hold on my shoulders, forcing me to consciously ignore the sensation as best I can while we take each step in succession. Finally, after what felt to me like ages, we reach the top, and begin the trek towards the half-open door that leads to Jason's bedroom—and although I know the effort is likely futile, and certainly foolish, I find that I am holding my breath as we move past Alison's room; my eyes closing on instinct as I shift from paying attention to the route ahead, to my fervent prayer that my erstwhile friend would not wake up._

_Of course, when I realize that Jason has effectively stopped moving, thus causing me to jerk forward for a moment until I come fully back to the present, all hope of focusing on said prayer rather quickly falls to the wayside…_

_"Ava, what is it?"_

_"What's what?"_

_"You know what" Jason stated; pulling back just a bit so that he can look at me more directly, though I subsequently end up doing my best to avoid that gaze in response "I know you do."_

_"Wow. And I thought you were supposed to miss things like that when you're intoxicated."_

_"Is that what this is about?"_

_Ignoring the question, I choose instead to pull out from under the weight of his arm, one hand lifting to tuck a stray lock of dark hair behind my ear as I simultaneously fight off the urge to shiver in response to the sudden absence of his body heat. Truthfully, I don't even know the reasoning behind the majority of my actions of the past fifteen minutes or so, particularly as I knew very well that it probably would have been wiser to keep out of his business to begin with. _

_God, but I can't do that—no matter how much good judgment might imply that I should._

_"Honest answer?"_

_"Preferably."_

_"Fine" I acknowledged; taking another step back as I realize Jason is moving towards me, and deciding at the last second to turn on a heel and head further away from the door of Alison's room before daring to speak again, albeit more softly "Not out here, though."_

_"Where?"_

_"Where do you think?"_

_Once again I realize that he is almost purposefully failing to suppress his amusement; the flush that adorns my cheeks as a result prompting me to duck my head away as I head towards the room in question. Belatedly, of course, the realization occurs to me that perhaps I should still be attempting to assist Jason, particularly as I am well aware of the sound of a few thumps along the way that can only mean he has bumped into the wall—but before I can really make any effort at pulling myself together for long enough to turn back, we are in the bedroom, and he has somehow managed to gain the wherewithal to shut the door until only a slim crack of the hallway is visible._

_"What's wrong, Ava?"_

_"What do you think?" I retorted; moving on instinct to the side of the bed, and plopping down on the edge while my eyes remain fixed upon my feet. I know that I should be cutting him some slack—that addiction, at its core, is not something easily shaken with simple words. But in spite of that awareness, I cannot shake the concern I feel as it rather effectively mingling with frustration over yet another promise broken; and I find that I am once again biting my lip as I register the dip in the mattress beside me, and come to grips with the sensation of Jason's arm brushing against my own._

_"You said last time was it."_

_"I know."_

_"And yet here we are—"_

_"Ava, I'm sorry" Jason admitted; the slight slump to his shoulders finally prompting me to look at him more directly, while he reaches automatically for my hand, and I thread my fingers through his own. Internally, of course, I am cursing myself for not putting up more of a fight; the sudden twisting sensation in my stomach indicating that I know caving now, of all times, might do more harm than good. _

_I am absolutely terrified that my lack of gumption will inadvertently serve as the catalyst for something far worse than just a temporary high, and yet at the same time I cannot bring myself to remain upset when Jason persists in looking at me as though no matter what, he would never do anything to deliberately drive a wedge between us…_

_"I know" I finally managed; a sigh escaping as I relax just a bit, and lean my shoulder against Jason's arm in an attempt to show acknowledgement of his apology, even if I could not quite convince myself to an open acceptance "I know you are, I just—"_

_"You worry too much."_

_"Hey!"_

_"You do" Jason pressed; giving my hand a little squeeze before he freed his own, and snuck an arm around my waist instead "It's—cute."_

_"Very funny, Jason."_

_"What? It's true."_

_"Sure" I quipped; effecting an eye-roll as I find that I am unable to entirely resist the small laugh that breaks free at the lopsided smile that I've come to adore so much "Has anyone ever told you you're a bit of a pain in the ass?"_

_"You're still hanging around—"_

_"I never said I had good judgment."_

_"Well I'm glad you don't" Jason stated; pulling me just a bit closer with the gentle pressure of his hand against my hip, and simultaneously leaning over to press his lips against my hair. I can tell that he knows he has succeeded in getting me off the so-called warpath, at least for now—and although I am still reluctant to give him a complete victory, I can't help but smile; my body instinctively leaning into his own before I reply._

_"Me too."_

_"Then stay—stay here with me?"_

_"What?"_

_"Stay here with me" He repeated; removing his arm from its place around my waist, and using his hand to brush a stray lock of hair behind my ear "You know Ali won't be awake before noon—"_

_"We—Jason, we—"_

_"Don't tell me we can't."_

_"But we can't" I persisted; pulling away, and finding that I am completely unable to suppress the almost wrenching sensation of emptiness that assails me as a result "If she wakes up, or your parents do—"_

_"My parents haven't barged into my room since I was fifteen, and Alison knows better."_

_"Does she?"_

_"Yes, Ava. She does."_

_With a sigh, I realize that I have been rather easily defeated, even though I set out never meaning to be; my eyes meeting Jason's willingly, and this time not turning away almost immediately as I once again take up the act of leaning against him while his arm snakes itself back around my waist. Almost automatically, I find that I am letting him lean backwards; dragging me with him until we are curled together on top of the comforter of his bed. And even in spite of how I am still slightly apprehensive over someone finding us together like this, I cannot quite fight against the sudden pull of exhaustion against my eyelids; the sensation of Jason's arm tightening its hold on me while my hand drifts up to rest against his chest finally lulling me to some semblance of sleep…_

…

In contrast to that memory, I was unable to catch even a single hour of sleep after returning from Emily's house; my eyes burning as I stare into the mirror, and try to force them open while I apply some mascara. The task is harder than I had anticipated, of course, and I find that I am forced to pull back from the mirror and blink several times in a futile attempt at clearing my vision; until the appearance of Spencer already ready to go in the doorway to my room stalls me, and I turn to face her with one brow lifted in question.

"You okay?" She asked; eyeing the mascara brush that I still hold in mid-air, and leaning against the doorframe while simultaneously folding her arms against her chest in a pre-emptive strike against my almost aggravated response.

"Spence—"

"It's a valid question, Ava, and you know it."

"And it's equally as impossible to answer" I said; turning back to the mirror hanging on the wall to attempt another try at the mascara "Are _you _okay?"

"Touché" Spencer began; exhaling a bit, and squirming her shoulders experimentally while she stepped a bit closer towards where I stood, and adjusted the straps of her dress "I just meant since you were the first one there—"

"Emily was the first one there" I corrected; carefully avoiding another glance at Spencer, though I can feel the weight of her gaze on me, regardless "I just turned up after the fact."

"Not long after the fact."

"Still, Spence, it—I'm fine."

"Why am I not convinced?"

"Because you know me too well for my own good?"

"That's what I was hoping you'd say" Spencer replied; bumping her shoulder against my own, and managing a weak smile at my exasperated huff over having just removed the mascara brush from my eye in the nick of time "You know, applying that stuff is probably pointless, right?"

"Try telling Mom that."

"I'll let you take that on, while I keep a safe distance, okay?"

"That seems really fair, Spencer."

"I thought so" My sister agreed; taking a step away from me as I finish in applying what little mascara I had the patience for, and place the tube on top of my dresser. Though I am well aware that it is a fruitless effort, I inspect my appearance one final time in the mirror; my lips pursing into a frown as I realize that the fact that I have not slept at all is written plainly upon my features. Before I can spend too much time dwelling on that reality, though, Spencer is looping her arm through mine; the gesture rather effectively pulling me away from the mirror, and towards my bedroom door.

"You ready for this?"

"I kind of have to be, Spence—"

No matter how badly I might have wished to stay home, I know that I _have _to do this; if for no other reason than to attempt putting the never-ending sense of guilt that was determined to plague me ever since Ali's disappearance at rest once and for all.

…

Arrival at the church proves to be everything I have dreaded and more; the sound of hushed conversations from those who have arrived before us mingling in the air as they either went into the open double doors, and towards the sanctuary, or gathered for a bit of talking on the steps. Spencer, Mom, and I of course almost automatically move to join them, while Dad goes to park the car with a promise to meet up with us on the steps as soon as he can—but almost as soon as we have crossed the street, my false confidence wavers; causing me to become nearly motionless, until Spencer turns around and notices how I have suddenly lagged behind.

"Ava?"

"I—I'll meet you guys inside, okay?"

"Do you want me to come with you?" Spencer inquired; her question alerting our mother to my sudden halt, and causing her to turn and eye me with some show of concern.

"Ava, I don't think you should be alone right now—"

"Really, Mom, I'll only be a few minutes" I pleaded; my voice cracking in a way that is almost unbearable to hear, at least until I realize that it actually seems to have given her reason to acquiesce to my request.

"Okay, but don't be too long."

"I won't. Promise."

With some reluctance, my mother appears to mull over and finally accept my assurance; her arm extending to wind around Spencer's shoulders so that she can direct her towards the steps, where she must have seen Emily and her mother waiting as well. And before she can change her mind, and turn back to try and convince me to join them, I hurry towards the small walkway next to the church stairs; my heels clicking against the sidewalk until suddenly they become muted as I make the transition from cement to grass.

Say what you want about churches, and their tendency, at least to me, to put one on the edge of their seat, but there was something about the little garden at this one's side that was almost peaceful…

Almost immediately, I feel some of the pent up nerves that had been plaguing me since the discovery of Ali's body abate; my shoulders relaxing just a bit as I meander over towards the small pond at the far end of the garden. A gentle breeze rustles the leaves in the shrubs that flank the water; even going so far as to make the skirt of my dress move just a bit, while a strand of my hair blows in front of my eyes—and then I hear it. The slight snap of a twig that has me whirling to face the source, my eyes blowing wide as I realize exactly who it is that has caused me to lose what little solitude I had so recently gained.

"Ava Hastings?"

"Yes?"

"Detective Darren Wilden" The man elaborated; flashing a badge at me, and unintentionally causing me to squint as a bit of sunlight glints off of the metal and into my eyes "I'd like to ask you some questions about Alison DiLaurentis. The two of you were friends, right?"

"I—we were, yes" I replied; instinct prompting me to fold my arms against my chest, while a shiver of apprehension causes my spine to straighten "But I was already questioned after Ali disappeared—"

"You and your friends are going to be questioned again, now that Alison's body has been found."

"Are we all going to be questioned at her funeral?" I questioned; shifting my weight just a bit on my feet, and hoping that my voice carries more certainty than I am really feeling "That seems—appropriate—"

"Yeah, well, I take my chances where I can get them" The Detective stated; shifting his suit jacket just a bit so that he can slide both hands into his pants' pockets, while simultaneously showing me a smile that had more danger to it than comfort "Why are you out here, and not with your friends?"

"I needed some air."

"You're sure it's not from a guilty conscience?"

"Why—why would it be?"

"Because I think you remember the nature of the questions we asked _you _as well as I do."

Just like that, whatever tentative peace I had evaporates, and I am left with a stunning sensation of raw nerves; my breath catching in my throat as I try and inevitably fail to maintain the façade of calm reserve that I had somehow possessed just moments before. A year had passed—only a year, and yet I still felt the stranglehold of suspicion that the Rosewood P.D. had placed around me as though it were yesterday.

Though I had hoped time would assist in regaining at least some memory of what had happened that night, my mind was still, almost mockingly, a complete blank.

"You do remember, don't you?" Wilden pressed; stepping just a bit closer to me, and rather obviously failing to suppress the way his mouth tugs up at the corner in response to my rather rapid step back "Your little episode of amnesia was pretty convenient."

"You might be the only one who sees it that way."

"It won't be that way for very long. When investigations turn from missing persons to homicide, you would be surprised how quickly the public's viewpoint turns against the one that was initially painted as the helpless victim."

"That's what you think I am?"

"I think that's what you pretend to be. I'm sure we'll find out the truth soon enough."

"You won't find anything without a warrant and proper legal representation for my daughter."

_Mom_…

"Mrs. Hastings" Wilden acknowledged; his expression remaining the very picture of civility, although I am not blind to how his eyes narrow in minute disappointment while my mother steps closer to stand at my side "Always a pleasure."

"I'm sure it is. Would you care to tell me why you've cornered my daughter in the garden when she should be going inside for a funeral?"

"Your daughter is a part of an on-going investigation, especially now that her friend's body has been found—"

"Ava, go back to the church."

"Mom—"

"Go back to the church, honey" Mom repeated; managing a squeeze of my shoulder before she is turning me around and giving me a gentle push towards the garden's entrance "I'll be right behind you."

Realizing that I appear to have absolutely no choice in the matter, I spare one final glance for my mother before turning and heading away from both her, and Detective Wilden; and stumbling just a bit as my heels catch on a lump of grass in my haste to get away. I can hear Mom's voice, hushed but no less fierce as she lights in on the Detective about interrogating a minor without an adult present—but somehow, even that is not enough to resettle my shaken nerves; and I find that I am only too glad to rush towards the exit of the little garden, and go inside the church.

Or at least, I am until I round the corner that leads to the church steps, only to collide with someone heading in the opposite direction, and very nearly falling flat on my rear-end, but for the hand that latches onto my arm; preventing me from falling, but also forcing me to look up at someone I would never have been prepared to see in a million years…

…

**Hello there, my lovelies! And welcome to yet another new chapter! I can honestly say I am blown away by all of the wonderful support this story is receiving! I really, sincerely appreciate how kind each of you has been with the feedback; and I truly don't know where I'd be without it! Special thanks, of course, goes out to last chapter's reviewers: Pllfan, Hope10, Warriorqueen, Princess1, Lady Bird, and Guest, Guest2, and Guest! I truly do appreciate the support, and like always I cannot wait to hear what you all think of this latest chapter!**

**Until next time…**

**MOMM**


	5. Chapter 5: Threat Revealed

"Ava—you okay?"

"I—yeah, I'm fine" I answered; pulling away from my would-be rescuer's hold on my arm, and using my free hand to rub at the skin as though it would soothe away the uncanny relief I felt at having been given such a touch to begin with "How—how are you?"

_Of all the stupid questions I could have asked…_

"Fine."

"Sorry, I—that was an insensitive question."

"No need to be sorry" Jason replied; his eyes searching my features as though hoping to find something more than my obvious uncertainty over how to react to his presence. Of course, I had known he would be here—some small part of me had even dared to hope for a chance to speak with him, no matter how awkward it might be after an entire year apart. But even in the face of that foolish hope, I cannot seem to find a single thing to say _now_; my cheeks flushing as I duck around Jason to head towards the church, only to find that he is following with relative ease.

"I'm sorry, Ava, I didn't mean to—"

"You didn't do anything, Jason, I promise" I amended; somehow persuading myself to come to a stop, and turning to face him more directly before going on "I'm just not entirely sure how to deal with all of this any more than I'm sure you are."

"Does any of that have something to do with the man who followed you just now?"

"You—you saw that?"

"Half of the people on the steps saw, Ava. What was that all about?"

"It was nothing."

"It didn't look like nothing" Jason insisted; reaching for my arm once again, and appearing for just a moment as though he was surprised when I did not immediately wrench away "Was he bothering you?"

"If you can call throwing year-old accusations around 'bothering', then yeah, I guess he was."

As I might have predicted, my statement has Jason freezing in place almost automatically; his expression darkening just a bit as he turns to glance back towards the garden while simultaneously relinquishing his hold upon my arm. With as long as it's been since I last saw him, I can still sense the sudden rise of anger, even before he takes that first step towards the garden as though he intends to confront Wilden on his own. And before I can fully realize what it is that I am doing, instinct prompts me to reach for him as he had previously reached for me; my fingers curling around his arm before he can pull away.

"Jason, stop."

"Why should I? "

"Because—because, it doesn't matter" I explained; aware of the incredulous expression that takes over Jason's features, and yet choosing to ignore it in favor of casting a glance around to ensure we haven't been overheard "My Mom's handling it."

As if in response to my statement, both Detective Wilden, and my mother emerge from the garden that very moment; the very picture of stoic civility even in spite of what they had all too likely been discussing just moments prior. Not for the first time, I find that I am utterly in awe of my mother's unerring ability to reconstruct her features so that absolutely no one would know what she was thinking at any given moment—or at least, I am, until I feel Jason gently moving away from me in time with the sound of his mother's voice calling out in greeting.

"Ava! Honey, I'm so glad you could make it."

"Yeah—yeah, me too" I replied; accepting her embrace with a suddenness that I hope will conceal my apprehension, and registering that the ever-present scent of her lilac perfume still pervades the air around her like a comforting glove "I'm so, so sorry."

"I know you are, dear" Mrs. DiLaurentis acknowledged; pulling back from me, but keeping her hold upon my shoulders as she looks me over with a half-smile "Why don't you go ahead and find the other girls in the front, okay?"

"In—in the front?"

"I asked all the other girls to sit in the front row for the service. It's—it's what Alison would have wanted."

I have absolutely no idea how to reply to that other than by managing a faint nod, before turning on a heel to head inside the church; a shaky breath escaping as I fold both arms across my chest and hurry towards the door. Truthfully, I have no desire to plunk down on a church pew front and center at Ali's funeral, with the reality of it all staring me right in the face. But, knowing that I really have no choice, I head inside; my arms still crossed protectively over my chest as though I really think it will do any good.

If I can get through this service, and back to the safety of my own house, I will be only too glad…

…

"Ava? You coming?" Hanna inquired; turning to glance over her shoulder at me as I come to the abrupt realization that I am the only one still seated in the pew "We were going to go to the Grille, if you want to tag along."

"I—yeah, sure. I'll be there in a minute?"

"You don't want to come now?"

"Ah—not yet" I replied; moving to stand, myself, and glancing towards the casket that held Alison's body with my teeth worrying at my lower lip "There's something I want to do first."

"Alone?" Hanna pressed; her expression indicating that she clearly thinks I have lost my mind, even though she isn't quite sure she has any right to be "You're sure?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm sure" I confirmed; stepping away from the pew and watching for a moment while Hanna follows after Spencer, Aria and Emily before turning back to the casket and stepping towards it instead. Even though I have not a clue what I am doing, or why I am doing it, I reach forward and place a hand tentatively against the lacquered wooden surface; and pointedly attempt to ignore the way that hand is trembling.

God, if Ali could see how I've turned into a big bundle of nerves because of all of this, she'd be laughing her ass off…

A frown tugs at the corner of my mouth in response to the thought, while my fingertips brush gently against the surface of the coffin, as though I think that by doing so, I can somehow bring Ali back. I miss her—I really do, in spite of everything that she had done over the years that appeared to be for no other purpose than to tear me down bit by bit. And although I am well aware that I really should be turning around and heading outside to rejoin my family and former friends, I cannot seem to avoid the sensation of being rooted to the spot; a shaky breath escaping while I bite down on my lower lip in hopes of keeping the sudden rush of tears at bay.

I can't do this. I _really _can't do this.

As I try to inhale slowly, in a last-ditch effort at settling my jagged nerves, I very nearly choke, the breath catching in my throat as I recognize the tell-tale buzzing of my cell inside my purse. I want to believe that it's just a text from Hanna, urging me to hurry up and do what I need to do so that we can all head over to the Grille, and attempt to put this all behind us. But of course, as soon as I pull the phone out, and press the button to light up the main screen, my heart plummets; a soft moan passing through my parted lips while I read.

_Be careful hanging around a corpse, hon. People might start to get the wrong idea—A _

Although I cannot see the blood leaving my face and leaving it pale, I can certainly feel it, just as I can feel my hands beginning to tremble as I fumble around to shove my phone back inside my purse, and struggle with the clasp. It is almost as if I can't seem to get the device away from me quickly enough—but of course my clumsy attempts at denial end up easily thwarted, in spite of my desire for the opposite; a last minute jerk of my fingers causing both the purse, and my phone to go clattering to the floor.

"_Shit_…"

Bending down to clean up the minor mess presented by my phone, lip gloss, and a small packet of tissues, I don't realize that I am no longer alone until my fingers brush against someone else's hand and I pull back with a gasp that sounds more like to a startled shriek when compared to the unsettling silence of the room.

"Sorry, you—you looked like you needed help."

"It's a sad day when a girl can't even handle putting her phone back in her purse" I quipped; accepting the device, and this time managing to stow it safely away before forcing myself to look at the person before me, head-on. Even though I wish I could ignore it, something about the way Jason is watching me, one hand still outstretched as though hoping to find some excuse to brush it against my own has taken complete hold of my attention; my shoulders tensing just a bit before I clear my throat and speak once again "Thanks."

"Any time" Jason acknowledged; glancing away from me and towards the casket for a moment, and consequently granting me the opportunity to see how a muscle jumps in his jaw before he turns back towards me and swallows before going on "What are you doing here on your own?"

"Just—just leaving, actually—"

"Are you going anywhere in particular?"

"The girls wanted to go to the Grille" I answered; pursing my lips as I notice Jason's suddenly crestfallen expression, as though he had been hoping my answer would be different "They're probably waiting outside."

"Is it 'the girls' already?"

"What do you mean?"

"I think you know what I mean, Ava" Jason stated; stepping just a fraction of an inch towards me, and lifting a skeptical brow as the gesture causes me to flinch and take an instinctive step back "That detective that followed you? He was talking to the rest of your posse on the front steps as I came back in."

"They're not my po—wait—he was?"

"Yeah, he was. You sure you still want to go grab a bite to eat with them?"

"Well it would look rather weird if I suddenly changed my mind."

"That's a pretty convenient answer."

"It's the truth" I pressed; frowning a bit as I realize that Jason doesn't appear to be entirely convinced, and folding my arms across my chest as some sort of last ditch effort at providing myself with the security that seems to have all but blown apart right before my eyes "Look, I really should get going—"

In spite of how I am poignantly aware that walking away _now_, of all times, is about as rude as I can get, I find that I am turning to face the door that will lead me outside, regardless; one hand lifting to adjust the strap of my bag slung across my shoulder, while the other drops back to my side. I can't explain it—the sudden urge to put some distance between myself and Jason, as though just one year prior I would not have desired the exact opposite. But of course, just as I have managed one step towards my intended destination, I find that I am stopped in my tracks; the sensation of a warm, calloused hand closing over my own causing me to freeze while my eyes flutter closed so that I can gain some equilibrium and resettle my breathing—

"Ava, don't do this."

"Don't do what?"

"This" Jason repeated; as though that single word was supposed to clarify any question I might have had over his intentions "You don't really expect me to believe that everything's gone back to normal between you guys, do you?"

"Believe me, it's the furthest thing from normal."

"Then why are you running back to it?"

"What am I supposed to do, pretend like nothing that happened with them ever mattered?" I demanded; glancing down towards where Jason's hand still rests atop my own, and chewing worriedly at my lower lip for a moment before gently pulling it away "I can't do that, and you know it."

"Sure you can."

"Oh really?"

"Really."

Unable to resist the slight scoff of incredulity that breaks free as a result of the obvious certainty in that one little word, I find myself once again taking a step backwards, until the sound of my phone buzzing insistently from inside my purse causes me to freeze once more. Though I have no real way of knowing exactly who the new message is from, particularly in light of the most recent text I received, I latch onto the noise as though it is, in fact, a signal of one of my former friends wanting to know where I am; my eyes meeting Jason's once again in spite of the small lurch of apprehension I experience as a result.

"I—that's probably Hanna or Spencer—"

"Yeah. Yeah, you should probably go, then."

"Jason—"

"No, it's alright. Go" He insisted; taking a step back, and appearing oblivious to how that simple gesture has me deflating almost instantly "Go be with your friends."

Though I want to remain where I am, in hopes that the longer I stay put, the easier it will be for me to fix whatever barrier there is that seems to have placed itself between us, I am almost immediately aware of how impossible that task actually is. Of course, I know I cannot really expect things to go back to normal—not after how it all fell apart during the events leading up to Ali's disappearance. But even that realization is not entirely enough to stop me from feeling the beginnings of a now-familiar disappointment; my posture straightening out of some protective instinct while I simultaneously turn and begin to move towards the door.

Even though Alison was dead—actually, _really _dead—I found that I was still behaving as though she could walk in at any moment, and destroy my relationship with Jason all over again.

…...

"Hey, there you are!"

"Ava, what on earth were you _doing _in there?"

"We were worried about you—"

"Wow, guys" I remarked; lifting a brow in slight suspicion, and glancing towards Emily for a moment as her hand automatically latches onto my own "A little excessive, don't you think?"

"Haven't you checked your phone?"

"Uh—no—"

"Check it" Spencer ordered; apparently choosing to ignore my incredulous expression, in favor of glancing towards my purse as though she could will my cell into my hand with just a glance "Please, Ava. Check it."

Still slightly put off by the almost too-enthusiastic reception my sister and our old friends had given me, I manage a hasty nod, and turn my attention to my purse, my hands shaking just a bit as I fiddle with the clasp, and pull out my phone once again. In spite of how I really would love nothing more than to ignore the sudden jolt that snaps through my veins as soon as my fingers touch the device, I find that I am thoroughly unable to do so; my teeth worrying at my lower lip as I press the home screen, and read the text that pops up above the one I had received just after the funeral.

_I'm still here, bitches. And I know everything. –A_

My stomach does that familiar, funny little lurch that it has every time I've received one of these texts thus far, though _this _time the apprehension comes more from the sudden realization that Spencer appears to have known about the text even before I withdrew the phone from my purse to read it…

"Wait—wait, did you—did you get one of these messages, too?"

"We all did" Aria said; crossing her arms over her chest, and glancing around our small grouping, as though hoping we could collectively come up with some excuse for the texts so that we are not forced to acknowledge the very real threat that they pose to us "We've been—we've been getting them since school started."

"Oh my God" I breathed; shaking my head as my phone drops back into my purse, and I look from Emily, to Aria, Hanna, and finally to Spencer before speaking once more "Spence, if you got one of these, then why—"

"Probably for the same reason you didn't tell me. I didn't want to worry you."

"Too late."

"Yeah. Not one of my better ideas" Spencer admitted; twirling absently at a strand of dark hair, and shifting her weight so that the majority of it rested on one leg before going on "So what are we going to do about this?"

"What are we going to do?" Hanna repeated; incredulity lacing her tone as though she thinks we are all insane for standing here, talking about this in the first place "We're going to go to the Grille and pretend none of this ever happened."

"Call me a pessimist, Han, but I don't think that's really going to work in this situation."

"Why not?"

"Because, this isn't one of those situations where you can just ignore the elephant in the room and have it actually go away!"

"Maybe that elephant would look a little less scary if we had some food?" I suggested; reaching out to grab Spencer's arm, and giving it a gentle squeeze as I recognize the tell-tale signs of her patience reaching its limit "We _were _talking about the Grille—"

"Yeah. I agree with Ava" Hanna corroborated "I'm starving."

Surprisingly enough, that brief exchange seems to settle our decision; and I find that my arms are soon linked with both Spencer's, and Hanna's while we move in a collective group towards the sidewalk. Aria and Emily are ahead of us, of course; their arms linked as well, as though none of the past year's events had ever come between us. For a moment—only a moment—I am almost lulled into the false sense of security that such a thought provides; my posture relaxing just a bit as the five of us start off towards the familiar shortcut we used in years past to get to the Grille. But naturally as soon as that assurance arrives, it is all too quickly forced away as I turn for just a moment to glance back at the church and discover that our progress is being watched while we move away.

I cannot explain it, but something in Wilden's expression as he observes us moving together makes it all too clear that his involvement with us has only just begun…

…

Moments later, we are situated around our former favorite table inside the Grille, with Spencer, Aria and Emily situated on one side, while Hanna and I occupy the other. Surreptitiously, I glance at the empty seat beside me, frowning a bit as I recall the millions of times Alison had occupied that very chair, more often than not sitting so closely that her shoulder remained in near constant contact with my own. Of course, just as I am actually in danger of becoming too distracted, I find that I am rather abruptly jolted back to the present by the sensation of Spencer's boot as it nudges against my shin beneath the table—and although I am reluctant to meet her gaze, I force myself to, anyway, a sigh escaping as her predictably raised brow effectively shatters whatever excuse I might have concocted to explain my distraction.

"You okay?"

"All things considered, you mean?" I quipped; the corner of my mouth pulling up into a half-smile as I realize the soft snort of amusement has come from Hanna at around the same time her elbow bumps against my side "Yeah, I—I guess so."

"You'd probably be better with a bit of fortification."

"What?"

"Fortification" Hanna repeated; shifting in her chair so that she can more easily reach inside her purse, and withdrawing something that glints in the lighting fixed above our table, before slipping it towards me beneath the table. The metal feels cool against my fingertips as I reach for it, and rather quickly realize exactly what it is—and although better judgment indicates that I _definitely _should not be doing this, I unscrew the stopper on the flask and pour some into my glass of soda as discreetly as I can.

"Thanks, Han."

"Any time."

After I pass the flask back to her, I suppress a smile of my own as she adds to her own beverage, her eyes flicking to another patron as she catches him staring, and narrowing just a bit before she raises her voice to speak.

"It's medicinal. For cramps."

"Nice save, Han" Aria acknowledged; pinching at the straw in her own drink, and shifting it around within the glass as she shifts a bit in her seat as though to get more comfortable "So, are we going to talk about—you know—"

"The text messages?"

"That was what I was implying, yes."

"Would you hate me if I said I didn't _want _to talk about it?" Hanna asked; glancing around at the rest of us, and finally settling on Spencer's expression of slightly aggravated resignation as she finished "I'll take that as a yes."

"I just think we need to come up with a plan" My sister explained; holding out a hand to stall Hanna's impending protest, and glancing towards me as though silently asking for my support before elaborating further "If we're all getting these messages, a united front is probably better than going it alone."

"And if banding together is what this 'A' person wants? What then?"

"We deal with it then."

"You have to admit, Emily has a point" I began; aware of Spencer's momentary expression of betrayal, and choosing to ignore it for the time-being in favor of pursuing a contradictory theory "We could be setting ourselves up to be sitting ducks."

"Would you rather be a singular sitting duck, or a sitting duck in a group?"

"How about none of the above?" Aria bargained; clearly confident in her viewpoint as she reaches a hand in front of Spencer to snag a lingering French fry that remains in the basket at the center of the table "But that said, I think we _should _stick together."

"I agree."

"Emily?"

Realizing that she is in effect outnumbered, Emily's shoulders slump in mild defeat, her teeth worrying at her lower lip while she simultaneously struggles with something that isn't entirely foreign, at least from my own perspective. While a part of me was almost intrigued at the prospect of reuniting with the girls that had once been such a huge part of my life, a still greater part was reluctant, if for no other reason than because I was absolutely terrified of losing them all over again.

In light of that awareness, I find that I am suddenly reaching across the table to make a grab for Emily's hand, my fingers easily lacing with hers while I offer a tentative smile. Though I know she wouldn't want me to notice, I can't help but realize that her lower lip is wobbling, likely in response to her valiant efforts at holding back tears. And even in spite of how I have been doing what I can to ignore my own emotional reaction to recent developments, I cannot help but feel the slight sting of my own tears pricking at my eyes; my hand consequently freeing itself from Emily's so that I can reach for my drink, and take a few conciliatory sips.

Thank God for Hanna, and her flask—that's all I can really say.

As if in response to that thought, I realize that Hanna is watching me rather carefully, one perfectly arched brow raised as if in silent inquiry while I wince just a bit as the alcohol burns my throat with each swallow. I know that this particular method of coping is by no means effective, just as I realize that what Hanna and I are doing has the very real possibility of spiraling out of hand in mere seconds. But somehow, as though a part of me actually wants to tempt fate, I offer her a faint grin, while simultaneously pretending to look the other way as she withdraws the flask from her purse once again and pours a bit more into my glass.

"Ava—"

"Yeah, Spence?"

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Drinking" I deadpanned; aware of Spencer's slight frown, and yet choosing to ignore it in favor of taking another sip of the beverage in question. I can tell, of course, that she wants to say more, although she does appear to be mulling over exactly what she _could _say in response to the situation, and my actions—but before she even gets the chance, the tinkle of the bells on the door effectively diverts our attention, a collective gasp escaping our little group as we realize exactly who it is that has joined us in seeking sustenance at the Grille.

_Jenna Marshall_.

The five of us remain frozen for a moment, glancing at one another as though hoping someone will suddenly come up with a miraculous solution to our newfound predicament. Naturally, no one seems willing to make the first move, as though doing anything at all will render Jenna suddenly capable of seeing, and expose our stunned expressions to her for good.

Perhaps the foolishness inherent in such an idea is what finally prompts _me _to be the one to stand, my eyes meeting Spencer's as I jerk my head towards the door, before stepping around the table and heading towards the exit myself…

Like clockwork, everyone else follows suit, sharing one final glance after clearing the doorway, before moving off in separate directions to head towards home; Spencer's footsteps falling in beside my own while I cross my arms over my chest to ward off a sudden chill. And, before she even opens her mouth, I find that I am unsettlingly aware of what she is probably going to say, my shoulders scrunching up just a bit in response to both apprehension, and the cold, before I find the wherewithal to speak.

"Look, I know what you're thinking—"

"Do you? I wasn't aware you were a psychic, Ava" Spencer retorted; scooting just a bit closer to me so that our shoulders brush together while we walk, and lowering her voice as though there is actually a risk of anyone else overhearing what she is about to say next "Does the drinking have anything to do with—with the Jenna thing?"

"What makes you think that?"

"What wouldn't?"

"The fact that we literally just left Ali's funeral" I bit back; aware of the almost scathing nature of my tone, and doing my best to settle my features into something a bit less harsh as I force myself to look Spencer's way before elaborating "Honestly, until she showed up just now, I hadn't even thought of Jenna."

"Yeah, me either. And yet, here we are."

"Yeah. Here we are."

"Why do you think she came back?" Spencer pressed; turning the corner that will lead us towards the now familiar shortcut to our home, and glancing back over her shoulder as though she feels someone might be following us "I mean, it seems a bit odd that she'd leave that school she was at, and all of its accommodations, just to come to the funeral of a girl she didn't even like."

"Maybe it was all just for show?"

"Who would she possibly be putting on a show for, Ava?"

"Honestly? I have no idea" I admitted; my lips pulling down at the edges as I tighten my arms about my torso, and shiver just a bit as a sudden gust of wind catches the two of us by surprise as we near the familiar mailbox situated at the end of our driveway "I'm not sure it's really something I want to be thinking about, either."

"What would you rather be thinking about?"

"What do you mean?"

"I think you know what I mean, sis. I'm pretty sure you weren't stuck inside the church talking to Ali's coffin for twenty minutes earlier."

"You never know, Spence. Maybe I was."

"Ava—"

"Yes?"

"You were talking to Jason, weren't you?"

Aware that I really stand no chance of meandering my way out of this conversation, I come to a complete stop about halfway up our driveway, and manage a sigh of resignation; my hands dropping to fall limply at my sides for a moment before I square my shoulders and attempt to reply with something other than the nagging uncertainty that has plagued me ever since Ali's body was found.

"I was. He—we were just catching up."

"Just catching up" Spencer repeated; lifting a brow in obvious doubt of my assertion, and stepping just a bit closer towards me so that she can speak a bit more quietly, likely on the off chance that our parents venture outside and discover where we are "Are you sure that was all it was?"

"Pretty sure, yeah. Spence, he just lost his sister."

"I know that, Ava, but that doesn't mean I'm not going to be aware of the fact that you two were—"

"That we were what?"

"Involved."

I roll my eyes in response to how Spencer has said the word 'involved' as though it is not all that different from a severely chewed piece of gum that has accidentally taken up residence on the bottom of her shoe; my body turning so that I can close the distance between myself, and the front door of our home until I find that I am stopped in the act by the gentle pressure of my sister's fingers curling around my wrist to stop me.

"Ava, wait—" Spencer pleaded; her expression shifting from one of mild disgust, to one of concern as she finally succeeds in wheeling me around to face her once again, and drops her hand down to my own to give it a squeeze "I'm sorry, I just—I'm worried about you."

"Because of Jason?"

"Because of all of it! Wilden—Jason—this 'A' person—"

"Well I can promise you, out of all of them, Jason is probably the safest person I can be around" I asserted; gently extricating my hand from Spencer's grasp, and taking a step back to regain at least some equilibrium, after the events of the day have taken their toll, only to find that Spencer is pressing forward towards me as though I had never moved in the first place.

"Are you really sure about that?"

"I'd like to think that I am, yeah."

"Would you promise me something then?" My sister inquired; her expression rooting me to the spot, and prompting an instinctive nod of acquiescence in spite of my reluctance to give in, particularly as I have a sneaking suspicion that I already know what she is about to ask.

"Promise me that you won't go seeking him out anymore. Please, Ava—"

"I won't" I interrupted; willing my response to sound unwavering, and sincere, in spite of how I have absolutely no intention of following through, should the circumstance arise "But Spence, I promise you, you have absolutely nothing to worry about, either way."

Judging by the way I had left things with Jason, it would probably be unlikely that he would seek me out anyway, no matter how much I may secretly want him to…

…

**Hello again, my darlings, and welcome to chapter 5! As always, I am absolutely blown away by all of the feedback that this little story has received, so far! And I cannot help but send my heartfelt thanks to each and every one of you that has been so instrumental in keeping me going with your kind words! **

**Special thanks, of course, go out to last chapter's reviewers: Hope10, Pllfan, Warriorqueen, Princess1, Lady Bird and Guest! I am beyond thrilled that you are all enjoying the story thus far, and I can only hope that this chapter meets with your expectations as well!**

**Until next time, loves…**

**MOMM**


	6. Chapter 6: Life Unraveling

For what felt like the millionth time, I turn onto my side in bed, my eyes narrowing against the small slip of moonlight that sifts through the bedroom window while I simultaneously scrunch a bit further down beneath the covers. Almost predictably, sleep has been rather elusive since Spencer and I returned home from the Grille, though I have not yet mustered the courage to venture out of my own room to discern if she is awake as well. Some small part of me is hesitant to seek her out, particularly as her concerns about my limited interaction with Jason are still weighing on my mind. But perhaps more pressing is the persistent jangling of my nerves over not only the texts I have received, but the return to Rosewood of a person that I—that _we_—all thought was long gone.

It would have been a lie to say that seeing Jenna walk into the Grille like it was nothing had not been enough to provoke that self-same anxiousness that had plagued me in the wake of her accident.

Thinking back to that pivotal moment of the evening, I can't help but realize that _something _significant must have happened in order for her to even decide to come back to Rosewood in the first place; the nature of her departure causing me to shudder at the resurgence of the long-suppressed memory, while I simultaneously come to the determination that there would be no way in hell _I_ would come back, were I ever in a similar situation. She was blind. Permanently, irrevocably blind because of a stupid prank that had gotten way out of hand, way fast.

If it had been me in her shoes, I would've stayed far, far away from the town, and the people who had done that to me, and as a result, altered the course of my life forever.

Jenna Marshall, though, was very obviously not of the same mindset, the confidence with which she had strolled into the Grille with her head held high indicating that she was clearly under the impression that nothing had changed since her departure. Technically, nothing had, of course, if you didn't count Ali's disappearance, now death, and the fact that the last time Jenna had set foot in the Grille, she still had the use of both her eyes. But still, it was eerie, seeing her there—

Eerie enough to have me hauling myself to a sitting position as I swing my legs over the bed and push myself to my feet. For a moment, a wave of vertigo hits me at the abrupt change in position, and the fact that I have hardly eaten anything at all in the preceding twenty-four hours. In spite of that, however, I force myself to pad over to the door that would lead from my bedroom, to the hallway beyond; a resigned sigh escaping as I step out and realize almost immediately that there is no tell-tale light shining from beneath Spencer's door.

It looks like I am on my own.

Turning away from my sister's room, and making my way towards the stairs, I take a moment to gauge whether or not any of the rest of my family is awake, my sudden desire to avoid detection startling me a bit, as not moments before, I had wanted nothing more than to have Spencer at my side. More specifically, I really have no desire to encounter either of my parents, or Melissa, particularly as the latter had done nothing but eye me with heavy suspicion ever since discovering that I had spent my time after Ali's memorial with none other than Jason DiLaurentis. Not long after Spencer and I had returned from the memorial, Melissa cornered me, wanting to know every last detail of the conversation between Jason and myself, as though she were legitimately concerned about the outcome.

If I could replay any part of the day so far, it would be the moment just before Melissa interrogated me, so that I could figure out some way out of it without increasing her suspicions…

"I'm not trying to be nosy or anything, but you look just a bit distracted."

Jumping at the sound of the unexpected statement, I find that I am only just able to stifle my surprised scream; my body whirling towards the sound while my hand flies to my chest in the stereotypical indication of shock. While my heart proceeds to pound erratically against my ribcage, I come to the realization that the person who interrupted my distracted ambling down the stairs is none other than Wren; his position on the sofa in the den indicating either an accelerated comfort in his as yet new surroundings, or a significant level of intoxication, given the bottle of my father's bourbon he has clutched in one hand. With one brow raised, I move closer towards him, my arms moving to cross over my chest as I assess him a bit more carefully—just enough to see that the corners of his mouth were turned down, as though he, too, were distracted.

"I could say the same for you" I quipped; watching for a moment as Wren slides over on the sofa, and pats the now-empty spot next to him, before deciding that there is absolutely nothing wrong with taking the proffered seat, and sinking down onto the cushion with some relief "Aren't you supposed to be over the moon about your engagement?"

"I am. Promise."

"Uh-huh. You sound super convincing."

"I should hope so. I am a doctor, after all" Wren joked; one of his elbows nudging me in the side, and provoking a slight laugh of my own in response "Your turn."

"My turn for what?"

"To tell me why you're so distracted. Melissa may not have told you yet, but I can be pretty stubborn when I want to be."

"Yeah? Well she definitely never told me you were a shrink" I retorted; smiling at the feigned horror that takes over Wren's features while simultaneously leaning back so that I am bumped up rather nicely against one of the fluffy throw pillows that my mom is so enamored with "I can promise you, though, the thoughts in my mind right now are far from interesting."

"Why are they keeping you up, then?"

"No idea."

"I beg to differ" Wren argued; taking a swig from the bottle of bourbon before offering it to me with a congenial grin "Take a swig. Maybe it'll calm you down."

"Yeah, until my dad comes downstairs and kicks my ass for underage drinking—"

"I don't think either of your parents will be coming downstairs any time soon."

"Why? Did you drug them or something?"

"Ha-ha."

"I thought it was funny" I stated; finally accepting the proffered bottle, and lifting it to my lips for a tentative sip. As expected, the liquid burns its way down my throat, causing me to wince before opting to take another; my cheeks burning as well once I realize that Wren is watching me with a rather inexplicable smirk "What?"

"Enjoying yourself?"

"Not particularly—"

"Have a few more sips and you will be" Wren advised; leaning forward to place both elbows on his knees, and threading his fingers together as though he intended to observe me in my impending delinquency "Go on."

"Why, so you can go and tell Melissa I'm a sloppy drunk?"

"Actually, I hadn't planned on telling Melissa anything about this."

"Really" I scoffed; pausing just long enough to register Wren's obvious nod of confirmation, and to take another sip of bourbon before I am squirming around a bit on the sofa so that I can face him more directly "Aren't people who are about to be married supposed to tell each other everything?"

"Not if they know what's good for them."

Unable to resist a laugh at the obvious amusement in Wren's expression, I find that I am shaking my head in resignation over having been persuaded to let him lull me into a tentative sense of companionship; whatever hesitation I might have had over abandoning my solitude in exchange for his company rather quickly falling away. Objectively, I can understand why Melissa is drawn to him. Who wouldn't be, with his open expression, and gently needling sense of humor? But still, I find some small niggling of uncertainty as I remain in my seat, and Wren leans back so that his shoulder brushes against my own; the aftertaste of the bourbon suddenly burning at the back of my throat as I rather quickly scoot away, and stand with the bottle still clutched tightly in my hand.

"I—I should go back upstairs."

"What, leaving so soon?" Wren inquired; one corner of his mouth lifting in a half-smile as he stands as well, and tilts his head to the side in open curiosity "Was it something I said?"

"I—no. No, I just need to try and get some sleep before school tomorrow" I blurted; silently cursing the flush that rises to my cheeks beneath the intensity of Wren's gaze, and taking a few steps back with an apologetic shrug "If I'm not up early enough for a pre-class coffee run, Spencer will probably kill me."

"Well I would hate to be the cause of your impending demise."

"I figured as much."

Before Wren could say anything else to waylay me, I turn on a heel and take the steps back to my room two at a time; the remaining bourbon in the bottle I had obviously forgotten to discard sloshing uneasily with each movement. Of course a part of me wonders if I shouldn't at least turn around for long enough to take the bottle back downstairs, particularly as I know exactly what will happen if my dad finds it in my room. But then again, the prospect of using it as an aid in actually getting some sleep is far more tempting; a resigned sigh escaping as I realize I am falling right back into old habits that I had tried so hard to put behind me—

If it came to confronting old demons, however, I was quite sure I would rather risk such a thing fully inebriated, rather than stone cold sober.

…

_(July 4, 2009)_

_"Ava, try this one on!" Ali encouraged; chucking a lacy tank top my way, and giggling as I am forced to bring both hands up to catch the thing before it can smack me fully in the face "It really matches your skin tone."_

_"And this scarf would really bring out your eyes" Aria added; rifling through the tangle of fabric splayed out on the bed at the center of our little grouping, and grabbing the object she seeks so that she can hand it my way "It doesn't look half bad with the shirt, either."_

_"You think so?"_

_"She knows so, Aves. Try it on!"_

_Knowing that it would be easier to go along with Ali's insistence, in spite of how I really am not in the mood for our impromptu fashion show, I pull my current t-shirt over my head, and shimmy into the tank top Alison has selected; a few strands of hair escaping from the sloppy bun knotted at the base of my neck in the process. Almost immediately I swipe them back to where they belong, an aggravated sigh escaping as I turn back towards Alison, and meet her expectant gaze with some trepidation. Clearly, she expects me to put on a show, even in spite of what had transpired between us just before the rest of our friends had arrived—_

_If she really thinks I'll let her win after what she said, she has definitely gone insane._

_Before I can say or do anything to erase the almost sly smirk from her features, however, her expression shifts into something more akin to outright rage; the sudden change causing me to manage a tentative step back as she pushes around both Emily and myself, and makes a beeline for her bedroom window. _

_"I know you're out there—I can see you!"_

_"You can see who? Ali, what are you talking about?" Emily questioned; hurrying over to stand next to Alison, and peering out the window herself while Ali replies._

_"It's that freak, Toby Cavanaugh. He's been spying on us through the window."_

_"I didn't see anything" I countered; moving to stand on Alison's opposite side, and glancing out the window myself "Maybe it was just a tree limb."_

_"A tree limb? Seriously, Aves?" Ali exclaimed; her expression indicating in no uncertain terms that she clearly thinks me insane for making the suggestion in the first place "Maybe you did indulge a little too much earlier."_

_Gritting my teeth so that I don't succumb to my initial desire to issue a snarky retort, I opt instead for simply crossing my arms over my chest and rocking back on my heels while Alison whirls around to the other girls with something akin to deviousness twinkling in her eyes. Admittedly, some small part of me is tempted to simply brush past all of them, and go back home—after all, that appears to be my only hope of achieving some solitude. But before I can make any attempt at doing exactly that, I find that Ali's fingers have now curled rather tightly about my wrist so that she can turn me around to face the rest of the group, her blue eyes boring into my own as she speaks._

_"I have an idea."_

_"Ali, no—"_

_"Oh come on, guys, live a little" Alison quipped; the little smirk she sends me chilling my blood in my veins as I realize exactly what she is about to demand, before the words have even left her lips "Ava?"_

_"No."_

_"It wasn't a question, Ava."_

_"And I'm not going to do it!" I snapped; wrenching myself away from Ali's grasp, and taking a few steps back to get some space between us "Ali, this is insane!"_

_"You haven't even heard what I'm planning on doing, yet."_

_"I think I know you well enough to be able to figure it out."_

_"Guys, seriously—maybe we should just go to the police" Aria suggested; glancing between Alison and myself as though she can see the electric charge of the tension that exists between us, and frowning just a bit in response "This is something that they can take care of—"_

_"You guys, he was watching us! He probably saw us all naked!" Ali exclaimed; her gaze settling upon Emily, and seeming to drill into her until she was forced to relent with a nod "We need to take care of this ourselves."_

_As though her words were law, I find myself watching, chagrined, as first Emily, and then Hanna, and Aria as well, fall into step behind one another, and file from Ali's room without any hope of the argument going further. Satisfied with her obvious victory, Alison flounces out of the room behind them, one last significant look passing between us before she, too, disappears from view. Knowing what she expects me to do, my teeth grind together in frustration, my hands curling into fists before I can even realize it, such that my nails dig into my palms and leave little half-moon shapes in their wake. And then I feel it—the sensation of Spencer's hand coming to rest on my arm, quickly enough that it would have caused me to jump but for the fact that I ought to have anticipated the gesture before it was even made._

_"Ava—you okay?"_

_"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine" I managed; rolling my shoulders experimentally, and frowning a bit as I realize that the act stands not a chance of actually relieving any of the tension that seems to have stretched my body taut "You should probably follow them."_

_"Where are you going to go?"_

_Stiffening in response to the question that I truly ought to have seen coming, I find that my hands are going limp so that I can slide them along the fabric of my jeans in an attempt to rid them of perspiration. I don't want to tell Spencer what I am about to do, any more than I want to tell her what sort of thing I had already done to land me in this position to start with. I can only imagine the sorts of things she would say to me that would make what I have to do only that much harder—_

_With Alison already on my case, I can't afford to face Spencer's disappointment as well._

_"I promise, Spence, I'll be right behind you. Go and catch up with the others."_

_Something told me the events of this particular evening would haunt me for far longer than any other evening had, before…_

…

The following morning I wake up with a pounding headache, and the sensation of what feels like millions of tiny, angry bees buzzing around in my stomach, a soft groan escaping as I laboriously force myself to a seated position, and glance blearily around my room. Little bits of sunlight are streaming through the partially opened curtains, the light adding to the jackhammering inside my skull as I tentatively edge my feet towards the floor, only to find that I am jumping in surprise as my bare toes bump against something round, and cold. Glancing down, I come to the realization that what my feet have touched is in fact my father's now-empty bourbon bottle—

Good God, I actually _drank _it all…

Kicking the bottle beneath my bed, and resolving to deal with it later on, after school, I force myself to my feet, my hands automatically flinging out as my balance wavers and I struggle to right myself before I end up crumpling to the floor. Instinctively, my eyes close for the briefest of moments, both in hopes of persuading the room to stop spinning, and in an effort to garner some sense of equilibrium over my roiling stomach. And although a part of me is sorely tempted to just turn around and crawl back into bed, I know that to do that would only provoke further suspicion over my current condition, my hands falling limply back to my sides as I open my eyes once again, and head towards the door that leads directly from my bedroom to the bathroom that I share with Spencer.

Relief floods through me as I nudge the door open in hopes it will not make its familiar, tell-tale squeak of protest, and realize that I appear to have the room all to myself, at least for the moment; my hand reaching out to the shower door so that I can push it open and start the water's sometimes lengthy process of warming up to the desired temperature. The fog that almost immediately floods the room in response is very near to soothing, my eyes closing once again as I lean back against the cool tiling of the wall and take a deep breath—

I know that what I did last night was hardly a step forward, but even in spite of my headache and upset stomach, I cannot help but realize that all things considered, I actually feel rested for the first time since Alison's body had been discovered.

Flinching in time with the realization, I pull myself away from my position leaning against the wall, and begin peeling off my clothing bit by bit, my brow furrowed as my mind trails back to old memories for what felt like the thousandth time. Already, I can practically imagine Ali's voice, chastising me for 'indulging too much', and making some passive-aggressive comment about how much her brother and I deserve each other—and in an attempt to prevent my memories from heading too close to home, I step into the shower without even bothering to check the temperature, a gasp escaping as I realize the heat is perhaps a bit too much.

For a moment, I'm tempted to adjust the dials on the faucet, particularly as another wince takes over my features as my shoulder slips beneath the spray. But just as quickly as I had prepared to turn around, I find that I am remaining rather stubbornly in place, the foolish thought that perhaps the heat will rearrange my jumbled thoughts into some semblance of order prompting me to take another step back until my entire body is beneath the showerhead.

Though I have tried my best to ignore it, it appears the familiar desire to be numb to the more chilling aspects of life as I know it has once again resurfaced…

…

Two hours, at least eight Motrin, and four cups of coffee later, I am able to meander through the halls between classes with more success than I had anticipated, the pounding in my head having subsided just a bit, and rendering me capable of looking straight ahead, rather than averting my eyes from the harsh glare of the fluorescent lighting on the ceiling above. Almost immediately, I catch sight of Hanna standing beside her locker, appearing deeply involved in conversation with Mona Vanderwaal. But before I can make my way over towards her in response to her obvious smile, and encouraging wave, I find that I am pulled to the side by the pressure of another hand grabbing at my wrist, my eyes widening as I nearly bump my shoulder into a nearby locker, and realize that the person who has so effectively distracted me is none other than Spencer.

"Ow—easy there, tiger" I quipped; gently extricating my arm from my sister's grasp, and shaking it a bit as I realize Spencer had, in fact, grabbed me a bit more harshly than she had probably intended to "What's up?"

"What's up? You really have to ask that?"

"Um—yes?"

"You mean you really didn't see him?"

"See who?"

"Oh my God" Spencer hissed; exasperation apparent upon her features as she looks at me as though doubting that I am the same person she left the house with earlier this morning "Officer Wilden just went into the principal's office; how can you _not _see that?"

"Apparently I'm blind today?"

"Ha-ha. Very funny."

"Look, Spence, maybe he's just here to talk to the principal about Ali" I began; rolling my shoulders in hopes of alleviating some of the tension that had taken root between them at just the mention of Wilden's name, and pursing my lips for a moment before going on "They're probably planning a vigil or something."

"Or he's here to talk to _us_" Spencer pressed; once again reaching for my arm to turn us both until we face the locker, and effectively rendering us obviously unavailable for other conversation just as Noel Kahn and Sean Ackard walk by "Come on, Ava, you and I both know him coming here is more than just a coincidence."

"Well what on earth would he want to talk about? We already told the cops everything we know about the night Ali disappeared—"

"We never told anyone about the Jenna Thing."

"Yeah, and there was a reason for that!" I exclaimed; glancing back over my shoulder as students pressed past us, occasionally jostling against us along the way "We promised never to tell anyone. Ever."

"Maybe someone had other ideas."

"Who? A?"

"Or Hanna—"

"Spence, Hanna told us she didn't say a word about it when Wilden took her in for the shoplifting thing!"

"Yeah, and she could've just told us that to keep us off her back!"

"Why on earth would she do that?"

"To save her own skin, Ava, why else?" Spencer stated; her expression once again indicating that I was way slower on the draw than she had anticipated as she looks me over with a furrowed brow, and I find that I am praying that I don't somehow still smell like dad's bourbon "I think it's something we all would do if we were under enough pressure."

"Yeah, well, Hanna didn't, and I honestly can't believe you would even think she was capable of it" I retorted; pulling away from my sister, and nearly stumbling into a passing senior whose name I can't remember in the process "I'm going to be late to class—"

"Ava, wait!"

Determined to avoid looking back at her, and absolutely flabbergasted that she could have honestly come to such an unlikely conclusion where Hanna was concerned, I press on and pointedly ignore her; my guilt at treating my sister in such a way causing me to gnaw idly at the inside of my cheek while I persist in the act of walking away. Already, I can predict what will happen later on tonight, after I am free from dance rehearsal, and Spencer is finished with field hockey for the night, namely as it pertains to my sister cornering me in my room and demanding to know what it is that has me so troubled. But even knowing that, I cannot bring myself to stop and go back to where I know Spencer is _still _standing, as though she can hardly believe I have just abandoned her; my steps carrying me around the corner as I head towards my English Lit. class, and find that I am suddenly freezing in place as a voice echoes over the intercom.

"Would the following students please report to the office: Emily Fields, Aria Montgomery, Spencer and Ava Hastings, and Hanna Marin."

Freezing in place, I find myself nearly choking as the air around me suddenly seems to vanish, my mouth going dry as I close my eyes and attempt to reassure myself that this is all a dream. It feels as though this is some cosmic joke, set up to prove to me that my sister had been right, after all. But as I instinctively turn on a heel and head back towards the hallway in which I know I had left her, I realize that Spencer's expression appears every bit as horrified as my own must be.

She's clutching her cellphone to her chest, and even from my current position I can tell that her hands are shaking…

"Spence, I'm sorry—" I managed; my voice cracking in mid-sentence, and causing me to clear my throat before attempting to go on "We're all just—we're all under a lot of stress, and—"

The sound of my own cellphone chiming inside my purse has me halting almost immediately, of course, my eyes meeting Spencer's for a moment, before I realize that Aria, Hanna and Emily are now in the hall with us. All three of them are holding their phones, too, the sight prompting me to shake myself, and rifle through my own purse to draw mine out. And then I see it—the now familiar text bubble that has a spasm of dread knifing through my chest as I press 'read' and bite my lip hard enough to draw blood.

_Dead girls walking—A_

My God, this _cannot _be happening.

Swallowing, and wincing as the sensation is akin to trying to take down a sizeable lump of sawdust, I force myself to look at each of my former friends in turn; the taste of blood from my overly-chewed lip causing my stomach to roil once again as I realize we are all thinking the exact same thing.

We are all in _way_ over our heads, and if we don't tread carefully, we just might drown…

…

_(May 2009)_

_"I can't believe that loser got the lead again! What did you do, Aves? Forget your entire routine?"_

_"Hardly" I groused; flopping rather dramatically on Ali's bed, and flinging an arm over my eyes to shield them from the glare of her ceiling fan light "But I'd be lying if I said she didn't have talent—"_

_"Yeah, but not as much as you" Alison protested; her shadow hovering over me, and causing me to peek out from beneath my arm as she nudges my thigh with her knee to get me to move over and make room for her to sprawl on the bed as well "I honestly don't know what anyone sees in her."_

_"What makes you say that?"_

_"The fact that she beat out my BFF for the title role in the end of summer dance recital—"_

_"That's hardly a reason to hate someone, Ali."_

_"It's good enough for me."_

_Snorting in amusement, I permit my arm to flop back onto the bed so that I can turn my head and look at Alison directly, a faint smile tugging at my lips as I realize this is the closest that I have felt with her, sans passive-aggressive threats, in months. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that Jason is otherwise occupied at a party at a friend's house, leaving the two of us to have full control of the DiLaurentis home for at least a few hours before Ali's parents come back from the charity fundraiser they left for just prior to our own arrival. Or maybe Ali has finally given up on taunting me for my involvement with her brother, and consequently given us both the time to move on to bigger, better things._

_Whatever the reason, I cannot find it within myself to question her sudden one-eighty; my elbow moving to nudge gently at her side before I speak once again._

_"Well thanks, Ali. I'm glad someone has my back."_

_"Always, Aves, you know that" Alison promised; bumping her shoulder against my own, before leaning up on her elbows, and tossing her blond hair so that it fell away from her face "I think I know what you need to do to make yourself feel better."_

_"Oh? What's that?"_

_"You need to get the bitch back."_

_Just like that, the ease I had felt just moments prior evaporates, my throat going dry as I haul myself to a seated position, and turn my body to face Alison's head-on._

_"Ali, no."_

_"What? You haven't even heard what I'm thinking of, yet!"_

_"I don't think I want to" I hissed; frowning as I realize Ali is rolling her eyes at my reluctance, and pushing herself away from the bed to head towards the mirror that rests above her dresser "Ali, I'm serious."_

_"Too serious" She retorted; exhaling in a huff as she reaches for a tube of bright red lipstick, and begins to apply it to her already-perfect pink lips "You need to learn to let loose a bit, or you'll turn into a clone of your sister."_

_"Which one?"_

_"Melissa, obviously—no one likes a goody-two-shoes, Aves."_

_Watching as Alison sends me a self-satisfied smirk before returning her attention to her lips, I find that I am unable to avoid the sigh that escapes from between parted lips when I come to the realization that she is being entirely serious. She wants me to get back at Jenna for taking the role I had worked so hard for—and, knowing Ali, she is about to concoct an absolutely horrifying method for me to use in doing so. But perhaps what is more disturbing to me than the idea in general is the fact that a part of me, no matter how small, almost wants to hear what Ali has to say._

_I'm sure she knew that, otherwise she would never have brought the subject up in the first place…_

_"So" Ali began; blotting her lips, and turning back towards me while she recaps her lipstick, and tosses it back on the dresser "What do you think about brainstorming a few ideas? If we want to get your spot back in the recital, we'll have to be quick—"_

_Somehow, looking at her intent expression, I know that I stand absolutely no chance of diverting her, whether I really wanted to, or not._

…

**Well hello there, my dears! And welcome to yet another chapter! I have to say, this one had a bit of a rough start, since I lost my muse part-way through the first few days of my week off from work. But thankfully, I managed to scrape something together—and I hope that you all enjoy it every bit as much as you appear to have enjoyed the previous chapters!**

**I know that I didn't have any Java-centric scenes in this one, but I wanted to balance that out with Ava's interactions with the other girls as well, both present day and in the flashbacks. I'm also aware that we have no indication that Jenna was ever involved in dancing…but hopefully you all can bear with me because I promise you, there's a method to my madness! All will be revealed, soon!**

**As always, many thanks go out to each and every one of you that has taken the time to follow, favorite and review this story so far (and special thanks to last chapter's reviewers: Hope10, Pllfan, Princess1, Warriorqueen, Lady Bird, and my two guests!) I am honestly blown away by all of the positive feedback, and I hope that everyone found this chapter to be worth the wait!**

**Until next time, dearies…**

**MOMM**

**PS—to "Yikes." I'm sure you won't believe me when I say this, but I honestly have not been writing the reviews myself. I can understand how it may look that way, given that they are all under names that are not logged in, but I would never review one of my own stories, no matter the review count, or lack thereof. I suggest you take a look at some of my other stories and their reviews, who _are _from logged in users for proof. Thanks.**


	7. Chapter 7: No Rest for the Wicked

The next thing I know I am squished onto the sofa in the principal's office, my shoulder bumping against Spencer's on one side, and Aria's on the other as we all collectively attempt to shimmy ourselves into a more comfortable position. Although I really am trying my hardest to avoid looking at him directly, I cannot help but notice that Detective Wilden is observing each one of us in turn, as though trying to read our thoughts before we can even put them into words. Instinctively, I avert my eyes to the toes of my heeled boots, as though I am suddenly fascinated with the minute scuff marks that mar them from frequent use—but of course as soon as I am moderately close to being successful in such a venture, I am rather effectively jolted from the act, the sound of Wilden's voice causing my heart to pound as I zero in on what he has to say.

"So the six of you were having a sleepover—at the barn in _your _backyard" He began; pointing haphazardly at both Spencer and myself, and waiting a beat for all of us to nod in agreement before going on "What were you up to, exactly?"

"Up to?" Emily questioned; glancing around at the rest of us, and squirming a bit in palpable proof of her discomfort "What do you mean?"

"I mean what is it that teenage girls find so fascinating about piling into a room and sleeping on the floor instead of a bed?"

"Probably the same thing they enjoyed when you were a teenager—talking about boys far too cocky for their own good."

I'm not quite sure what provoked the outburst, of course, any more than I am willing to meet Spencer's eyes as she glances at me with a raised brow, her expression clearly indicating that she fears I might just be off my rocker. Honestly, there's a small part of me that is wondering the same thing, especially as I realize that Wilden is now glaring at me as I risk a tentative peek back in his direction, whatever bravado I had possessed mere seconds earlier evaporating as quickly as if it had never existed at all.

"Smart remarks won't help your cause, Ava. Especially when the story you girls told the police on the night of Alison's disappearance has quite a few holes that need to be filled in."

"What holes?" Spencer interjected; her hand darting out to rest upon my knee as she realizes long before I do that my foot has begun the act of jigging nervously against the tiling, causing a faint clicking sound to resonate around the room as a result "We stayed in the barn, waiting for Ali—"

"And then you fell asleep, only to wake up hours later with not only Miss DiLaurentis, but yourself, _and _your sister missing as well."

"That's what we said" Spencer confirmed; looking towards me once again, although her expression is unreadable, as though she is beginning to doubt even her own recollection "Ava woke up to go back to the main house to grab a sweatshirt, and I was awake about ten minutes later and went looking for Ali."

"That's also almost exactly what you said on the night your friend went missing" Wilden mused; his eyes boring into me until I find that I am meeting his gaze head-on for fear that if I don't, its intensity will burn straight through me "Things like that make me wonder if your statements were rehearsed."

"They weren't."

"And that _isn't _something that a person who practiced what they were going to say in an interrogation would say—"

"Is this an interrogation?" Spencer interjected; removing her hand from its place upon my knee so that she can lean forward in a gesture that is so shockingly akin to our mother that I suddenly find it nearly impossible not to laugh "Because if it is, I really think another adult should be present."

"I just want to get a better understanding of what went on that night. I think if the five of you really think about it, you'll realize it's the right thing to do."

"The right thing to do? Treating us like suspects is the right thing to do?"

"I can promise you, Ava, I won't be treating you like a suspect unless you show me you've got something to hide."

If that statement wasn't enough to get me to shut up, I don't know what is…

Fortunately, Wilden's phone chooses that particular moment to let out an insistent little chirp, thus distracting him from zeroing in on me, personally, and granting me a moment to slump back on the sofa with a faint groan of mingled exasperation and panic. Naturally, I realize that snapping at him was probably not the smartest of choices, given the implications behind the act, and the aura surrounding the investigation in and of itself. But even in spite of that awareness, I cannot help but feel that I am at least partially justified in going on the defensive—

Something that becomes readily apparent as Wilden ends the brief conversation he had partaken in, and gestures towards the door in a wordless indication that we are free to leave, only to reach out in the second that I am passing him to grab onto my arm so that he can duck down just close enough to speak softly against my ear while the other girls' backs are turned.

"We're nowhere near finished here, Miss Hastings. I'll be in touch."

I knew just from the tension in his grip that this was just the beginning of the end…

…

Later that day, in the miniscule amount of time that I have to rush from AP American History to Biology II, I find that I am surprisingly lax standing before my locker, my shoulders slumped, and my hand hanging limply from the dial, as though I am utterly at a loss for what to do now that I have opened it. For a moment, I simply stand there, transfixed, my eyes rooted on my textbooks but not truly seeing them. But, just as I finally succeed in jolting myself back into awareness I find that I am letting out a strangled shriek, the sensation of a pair of arms looping around my midsection such that my feet are lifted almost immediately from the ground causing my heart to pound as I am spun around in a small circle while familiar laughter rings in my ears.

"Gotcha, Aviator!" Noel crowed; finally placing my feet back on solid ground, and rather obviously ignoring my startled expression as he took up his habitual position leaning against the locker beside my own "Whatcha doing?"

"Going to my next class—"

"What about after school?"

"Dance practice."

"And after that?"

"What is this about, Noel?" I questioned; shutting my locker, and turning to face him more directly, though I had to tilt my head back just a bit to look him in the eye due to his distinct advantage in height. Surprisingly, I soon discover that he is absolutely beaming down at me, the crinkles that the smile provokes around his eyes causing my mouth to go dry.

Okay, time to squeeze out from between his athletic frame, and my locker. _Now_.

My attempt at doing exactly that is a bit more difficult than I had originally planned, as at that exact same moment, half of the varsity soccer team decides to pass down the hall en masse, bumping me back against the locker I had just been trying to vacate, and provoking a small huff in response. Belatedly, I become almost poignantly aware that I have managed to clunk not only against the locker, but against approximately half of Noel's chest, as well—and if the sudden smirk that spreads across his features is any indication, he is not entirely willing to object.

"I really need to get to class—"

"Let me walk with you?"

"Well seeing as it's either that, or let you get squished against the lockers—" I quipped; managing a wavering smile, and shifting my shoulders in a half-hearted attempt at relieving the tension that had taken root between them as easily as if it had belonged there the entire time. Fortunately, Noel doesn't press me for more conversation right away, allowing us both to press through the crowd of other students hurrying along to their own classes in silence, even if only for the moment. But of course the moment is entirely too short for my liking, the realization that we have broken through the majority of the throngs of students prompting Noel to speak once again.

"So I'm having a party this weekend" He began; obviously trusting that his status in these halls would persuade everyone else to clear out of the way so that he could instead focus almost entirely upon _me _"The parents are going out of town, so the entire place will be ours."

"Ours, and the rest of the school's" I corrected; unable to resist the small laugh that escapes as Noel nudges me in the side with his elbow, and I stumble momentarily before regaining my balance and turning the corner that would lead towards the Biology classroom "You know, I've always wondered how you and your brother are able to have these things and your parents _never _find out."

"Let's call it a gift."

"Yeah. Let's" I agreed; closing the distance between myself, and the classroom door, and leaning against the wall beside it so that I have a more comfortable vantage point to glance up at my rather persistent companion once again "What time is this 'party' of yours going to start?"

"Eight, as always. But you're welcome to come as early as you want" Noel stated; stepping just a fraction of an inch closer to where I stand, and folding both arms across his chest while simultaneously cocking his head to the side in a gesture that is remarkably akin to a puppy, waiting for a treat "I'm sure we could think of something to pass the time."

"Or I could just show up with everyone else—"

"Where would be the fun in that?"

Rolling my eyes at the comeback that I really ought to have anticipated, I find that I am pushing myself away from the wall I had been leaning against as I catch sight of Detective Wilden heading down the hallway, deep in conversation with the principal, my spine tingling as his blue eyes latch onto my own as he passes. I know that the gaze was purposeful, though my suspicion that it is rather sinister _might _just be a creation of my already jangled nerves from the morning's unexpected interrogation.

Or maybe it's not, and I really _should _be scared…

"Hey. You okay?" Noel inquired; one dark brow quirking up at my obvious inattention to his lingering presence at my side, and causing me to flinch as he steps just a bit closer, likely as an attempt at appearing concerned. Suddenly, though, I find that I really can't take being _that _close to him—as though if I persist in standing so near that he could easily reach out and take my hand, I might get burned—and with that in mind, I sidestep around him and make it to about halfway through the door of the classroom, only to find that I am stopped in the act by the sensation of his hand curling around my arm in the exact same place Detective Wilden's had been what felt like mere seconds prior.

"Ava, seriously—what's going on?"

"Nothing—it's—it's nothing" I assured; forcing a tentative smile to take over my features as I did what I could to shake my unease away, and focus on Noel instead "I'll see you this weekend, okay?"

"How about after you get done with dance practice tonight?"

"Noel—"

"Just meet me outside the auditorium, Ava. I promise I'll make it worth your while" Noel insisted; the pleading look in his eyes rendering me absolutely powerless to do anything _but _agree, in spite of how a small bit of reluctance still nags at me like a relentless splinter stuck just beneath the edge of a fingernail "I'll even buy you a coffee so that you can go back home and kick ass, studying."

"Okay" I consented; a resigned laugh escaping as Noel's expression almost immediately brightens, and consequently prompts a faint smile of my own "But I probably should be home by nine, at the latest."

"It's a date. See you later on."

Before I can say anything further, I find that Noel is disappearing down the hall towards his own class, leaving me standing, bewildered, in his wake. For a moment, I simply stand there, seemingly oblivious to the warning bell signifying we only have about a minute and a half to make it the rest of the way to our classes, until the sight of my biology teacher rounding the corner jolts me into action, and I make my way to my seat.

No matter how hard I try, though, I can't get the tone of Noel's voice, or his little smirk out of my head as he said the word 'date'—

…

"So I saw you talking with Noel Kahn earlier" Hanna half-whispered; her blue eyes twinkling with barely suppressed excitement as she lifts one perfectly plucked brow at me while I persist, at least for the moment, in stuffing the books I won't be using for homework later on into my locker without saying a word, or even looking at her, head-on "Care to tell me what that was all about?"

"Why does it have to be about anything?"

"Well, I may or may not be interested in the outcome. I mean, he _is _Sean's best friend."

"Don't tell me—you'd love the opportunity to go on a double date" I quipped; laughing a bit at my own joke until I realize that the widening smile spreading across Hanna's features appears to indicate that she, in contrast, is definitely taking me seriously "Trust me, Han, nothing is going on between me and Noel."

"Are you sure? Because _that _didn't look like nothing."

"Trust me. It was nothing."

"Well that doesn't necessarily mean it won't turn into _something_" Hanna pressed; obviously ignoring my eye-roll, and looping her arm through my own as I slam my locker door shut, and we proceed to walk down the hall "I think he likes you."

"What?"

"Oh come _on_, Ava, you can't tell me you haven't noticed! He's been flirting with you since that party last year!"

"No he hasn't" I protested; flushing in spite of myself, and averting my eyes to some of the posters lining the hallway walls above the lockers in hopes of preventing Hanna from taking notice, and questioning me about it, or worse, coming to the wrong conclusion "He's just—he's just been a friend, that's all."

"Right. Just a friend."

"Seriously, Hanna—"

"So you're just going to pretend like that thing you told me about never happened?"

As soon as she says the words, I can tell that she regrets them, her cheeks flushing as she comes to a sudden stop in the hallway, just as the hold she has on my arm tightens as though she is absolutely terrified that I will bolt away before she can make amends. For a moment, Hanna just eyes me in silence, chewing worriedly at her lower lip as though trying desperately to think of something to say. But before she can fret anymore over her perceived faux pas, I squeeze her arm of my own accord, a shallow exhalation causing my shoulders to deflate before I look Hanna in the eye, and take care of the problem for her.

"Yeah. Yeah, I think I am, at least for now" I began; turning just a bit to continue our trek down the hall, and finding myself relieved that Hanna follows along with relative ease, instead of remaining where she was to further question my behavior "You going to English?"

"When the teacher looks as good as Mr. Fitz? Hell yes I am!"

Unable to resist the laugh that bubbles up in response to Hanna's remark, I find that it is surprisingly easy to finish the walk to our classroom, our arms still linked together, as though we would never dream of _not _entering that room together. Although Alison's disappearance had rather effectively forced our little group apart, I couldn't help but feel that perhaps her death had brought us all back together…

And in spite of the fact that I knew it might be inappropriate to feel that way, I was poignantly aware of how glad I was to have my friends back, no matter the cause behind the reunion in the first place.

…

_(July 3, 2009)_

_Jolted awake by the sound of my cellphone ringing insistently from the inside of my purse, I blink several times in an effort to clear the fog from my vision before hauling myself up on my elbows, and risking a glance beside me while I do so. Fortunately, Jason is still asleep, though if the shrill ringtone is permitted to continue playing, that reality will probably change in a very short period of time. And, in spite of how a small part of me would have been content to simply watch him sleep, given that whatever had been troubling him prior to our impromptu nap appeared to have faded away since then, I force myself to swing my legs over the edge of the bed and pad towards my purse so that I can retrieve my phone, only to find myself momentarily freezing once again as I read the name on the caller I.D._

_Alison._

_Knowing her as I do, I force myself to answer the call, my feet instinctively carrying me towards the half-opened doorway to Jason's bedroom, so that I can slip outside and shut it securely behind me before heading towards the stairs._

_"Ali?"_

_"Hey Aves! What's new?" Ali replied; the enthusiasm in her voice very nearly palpable as I pick up on a faint rustling in the background before the line clears out once again, and I can reply._

_"Um—not much. What's up with you?"_

_"I figured it out!"_

_"You—you figured it out" I repeated; baffled, either by lack of context, or the fact that I was still trying to process that I had just woken up next to her brother, after having decided to use her absence while she visited her grandma to spend as much time as I could with him "What did you figure out?"_

_"Jenna? How we're going to pay her back for stealing your role in the dance recital?"_

_"Oh. That."_

_"Yeah. That" Alison confirmed; the sharp laugh she emits causing me to flinch as I find myself acutely grateful that she can't actually see my face, which I am quite sure has now drained of all color "Come on, don't tell me you've forgotten."_

_"I haven't, Ali. But I don't think—"_

_"You've got cold feet."_

_"What?"_

_"You have cold feet" Ali stated; the tone of her voice giving me absolutely no doubt that her formerly chipper mood has evaporated, fast "I thought I could count on you, Aves."_

_"You can" I assured; dragging a hand through my tangled hair, and flinching once again as the door I had so recently shut creaks open once again, and Jason peeks out into the hallway, forcing me to wave my hand at him almost frantically in hopes that he'll interpret the gesture, and stay quiet "You can count on me, but not—not about this. It's wrong."_

_"What's so wrong about taking back what belonged to you in the first place?"_

_"Gee, I don't know, maybe the fact that I have every reason to believe you're going to go about it in a way that is far from legal?"_

_"God, Ava, live a little!" Ali exclaimed; her exasperation obvious even though I cannot see her face "What the hell is it going to take to get you to stand up and demand what you deserve?"_

_Wasn't that interesting, coming from the girl who would go straight to my parents if she realized exactly what I was doing in this particular moment?_

_Shaking myself before I can foolishly give in to my desire to say that out loud, however, I turn from the bedroom door and lean against the wall, in spite of the fact that I can practically feel Jason hovering behind me, one of his hands toying with a few strands of my hair that have fallen across my back. Eerily, because of Ali's tone, his touch causes me to shiver, where before I had wanted nothing more than to get as close to him as I possibly could. And before I can really help it, I am stepping away and clearing my throat in hopes that Ali won't be able to hear the minute trembling of my voice._

_"Listen, Ali, I—I've got to go. My parents need me to help them with something outside."_

_"Fine. But don't think that you're getting out of this, Aves" Ali warned; her words chilling the blood in my veins, and causing me to shiver once again as she lets out yet another sharp laugh before ending the call "I've worked too hard to find something on her to let you back out, now."_

_"What was that all about?"_

_"What was what all about?" I countered; biting at my lip as I turn and face Jason once again, and realize that he is eyeing me with nothing but concern. Of course, I hate lying to him, especially as he has been nothing but honest with me since this whole thing started. But just as I know that he deserves to hear the truth, I am also painfully aware of the fact that if I do cave, and confess, Ali won't hesitate to turn the tables on me—_

_I know better than most that she has an almost uncanny ability to take her own ideas, and turn them around on someone else when it suits her._

_"It was nothing, Jason. Just—just Ali, being Ali, that's all."_

_ I don't even have to look him in the eye to know he doesn't believe me…_

_"You're sure about that?"_

_"Yeah. Yeah, I'm sure" I confirmed; dropping the hand that holds my phone down to my side, and stepping just a bit closer as Jason simultaneously reaches out to draw me in. Even the simple act of looking at him, while his arm winds partway around my waist, until the pad of his thumb has slipped beneath my shirt and is now running tentatively against the base of my spine is reassuring, though I would be a fool to pretend that it does not have me very near to trembling as a result. We haven't gone 'there' yet, of course, though I would be lying if I said the thought hadn't crossed my mind…_

_But still, my own lack of experience notwithstanding, I cannot help but feel reassured that inasmuch as he won't press me for anything physical until I am ready, the same also applies for details about my most recent conversation with his sister._

_"Besides, now that we're both awake, I think we should actually try to finish watching that show you're so obsessed with—"_

_"Come on, Ava, 'Breaking Bad' is a decent show" Jason protested; tightening the hold of his arm around my waist, and using his free hand to start tickling my side until I shriek and attempt to twist away. Somehow, I manage to dodge around him and make it about half of the way into his bedroom before he catches up. The next thing I know, I am being scooped up and tossed over his shoulder with relative ease, another shriek escaping as he carries me over to the bed and plops me a bit unceremoniously on top of the comforter. Almost instantaneously, he flops down beside me, pulling me against his side as securely as I had been before while simultaneously reaching for the remote on the bedside table—_

_It seemed, for the moment at least, that we could go on enjoying the evening as though Ali had never even called, and it would have been a lie to pretend that I wasn't absurdly grateful for that very fact._

…

**Hello there, my lovelies! And welcome to yet another chapter! I have to admit, I intended to go a bit farther into the plotline with this one, before the idea for the flashback came along and distracted me—but even if this chapter was a filler, I do hope that it still meets with your approval! And I promise that more action is yet to come!**

**As always, many thanks go out to each and every one of you that has taken the time to read, follow, favorite and review this story so far (and a special shout-out to my reviewers: Hope10, Pllfan, Princess1, Warriorqueen, Lady Bird, and Guest!). I truly do appreciate the support and I cannot wait to hear what you think of this latest chapter!**

**Until next time loves…**

**MOMM**


	8. Chapter 8: Date Night

I've been looking forward to lunch for the last hour at least, if for no other reason than to get a break from the relentless drilling of information that the morning's classes have provided. Ordinarily, I would've enjoyed that, seeing as it would give me ample distraction from my thoughts, even on one of my worst days. But of course one of my worst days, prior to today, would have only involved a potential argument with my parents, or finding out I did less than stellar on a chemistry test.

Today, though, after being called into the principal's office and having to deal with Detective Wilden, I find that I have a whole new perspective of what constitutes a 'bad' day…

Shivering as the memory of Wilden's hand latching onto my arm resurfaces, I push through a throng of sophomore girls gathered around a locker and head towards the cafeteria, my teeth worrying instinctively at my lower lip while I do so. Almost immediately, I catch sight of my friends, gathered around a lunch table in the far corner of the room, my feet carrying me towards them on instinct while I hitch the straps of my purse higher up on my shoulder. Part of me is glad that none of them appear to be aware of my approach, thus giving me a chance to attempt composing my features into something a bit better off than a petrified mask.

But of course almost as soon as that fraction of relief registers, it disappears, my heart freezing within my chest as I watch Aria rise and head towards me, only to discover that she isn't really looking at me at all.

"Jenna—hey."

Whirling on a heel just in time to see Jenna moving up beside me, I find myself possessed with the almost foolish desire to hold my breath, my right hand curling so tightly around the strap of my purse that my fingernails begin to dig painfully into the skin of my palm. Vaguely, I am aware that Aria is actually _talking _to Jenna, taking the tray of food she has balanced in her hands, and looping an arm around her elbow to lead her over to the table—_our _table. But before I get the chance to turn on a heel and bolt for the door, Hanna is calling out to me, her voice cracking in mid-sentence as she rises from her own seat and implores me to sit as well.

"Ava—don't go?"

Resigned to my fate, as it were, I trudge back to the table, and take the open seat beside Hanna just as Jenna takes one across from me, and next to Aria, and places both hands on the table as though she belongs there. A smile seems to be toying with the corners of her mouth, as though she might actually be amused over the turn in her circumstances. And although I am half tempted to call her on that very fact, I remain silent, my eyes darting over to meet Aria's, and simultaneously widening a bit in what I hope comes off as an 'are you completely insane' expression—

If only that were the simplest of my quandaries, at the moment.

"So—this is Alison's chair?" Jenna inquired; her tone carrying just the faintest sense of humor in it, and consequently causing the small sip of soda I've just swallowed to come very close to burbling back up my throat again. For a moment, I find that I am almost distracted by the eerie way her eyes, albeit covered in sunglasses, seem to rove over each one of us in turn, as though she can see right through us, and all the pretenses we are quite obviously trying to put up at the last second to conceal our nerves at her sudden appearance.

Fortunately for us, Emily seems to recover almost instantaneously, her dark hair falling over one shoulder while she takes the liberty of answering Jenna herself.

"No. We don't sit at that table anymore."

"Why not?"

"Too many memories" I supplied; replacing the can of soda I pilfered from my locker before heading to the lunchroom to begin with on the table, and leaning forward so that both elbows rest on the table before going on "Besides, it's not like seats are assigned in here."

"Ali might've thought differently if she were here" Jenna pressed; taking a sip of her orange juice, and twirling the cap in the hand that is not preoccupied holding the bottle for a moment as though it's the most fascinating task in the world "I mean, she sort of ran the school."

"Yeah, well she doesn't anymore."

Stunned by the unexpected ferocity in Emily's words, I try what I can to meet her gaze, if for no other reason than to attempt to discern what it is that has her so upset, aside from the obvious. Of all of us, she has always been the most level-headed—the one with the steadiest head on her shoulders, in a seemingly wide array of stressful situations.

For some reason, though—a reason that troubled me far more than I was prepared to admit—that appeared to no longer be the case.

Great.

As if they, too, are aware of her uncharacteristic harshness, I realize that Spencer and Aria are glancing at Emily as though she has just appeared at our table stark naked in the middle of the school, my foot sneaking beneath the table to give Spencer's a gentle kick in hopes of persuading her to resettle her expression into something a bit more neutral. Naturally, a rush of belated amusement hits me as I recall that obviously, even if Emily _had _arrived in such a state, there was no way Jenna could have seen it.

There was no way she would ever see anything at all for the rest of her life.

With a shiver as the realization takes hold of me for what feels like the hundredth time since the event itself, I fold my arms defensively across my chest, my teeth once again taking up the familiar task of worrying at my lower lip while I wait—while I _pray_—for someone else to speak. The silence seems to engulf our little table, while the roar of the cafeteria as a whole tends to soften to a dull roar. And although I really want to do anything I can to ignore it, I realize that Jenna's sunglasses have riveted back around to rest on me again, the weight of the gesture causing me to stiffen, while she opts for a half-smile.

"God, I thought this used to be the fun table. What happened to you girls?"

You, Jenna Marshall. _You_ happened to us, and now there's no going back…

…

_(July 4, 2009)_

_I am a fool. A horrible, unbelievable, stupid little fool for actually giving in to Alison's demands—her threats—and convincing myself that what I am about to do is the right thing. Of course, there's a part of me that recognizes I am quite literally caught between a rock and a hard place, since if I go back on my word, Ali will most likely do the one thing that can make my life a living hell._

_I suppose that is the sole reason for my presence in Jason's bedroom, rifling through his things while simultaneously thanking whatever God that will listen that he is out at a friend's house tonight, and can't walk in on the evidence of my stupidity._

_As I go through the third drawer in his dresser, I emit a little gasp as my hand bumps against something far harder than a folded up pair of jeans should be, my heart rate accelerating to a pounding rhythm while I shut my eyes for just a moment before hauling the object out so that I can see it properly in the faint light provided by a nearby window. The glinting metallic label catches my eye first, prompting me to tilt the box just a bit so that I can read the shiny bold lettering scribed in red, white, and blue letters._

_'Big Al's Fireworks.'_

_Jackpot._

_Tamping down the last bit of the guilty conscience that is all but screaming at me to put the damn box back where it came from and go back downstairs to rejoin my friends, no matter the consequences, I opt for tucking it as discreetly as I can beneath the light jacket I am wearing over the top of the shirt Ali all but forced me to try on. My heart is still pounding away, giving me the strangest sensation, as though it may just fly right out of my chest if it keeps up for much longer. _

_Obviously that idea is ridiculous, but given what I am currently partaking in, an extra little bit of unbelievable folly seems to fit right in._

_Doing what I can to shove the ill-timed amusement that such a thought brings to mind aside, before it can have me laughing as though I really have gone mad, I focus instead on the task of navigating my way back downstairs without alerting Ali's parents to what it is that I'm doing. According to my so-called friend, also known as vengeance procurator, they were holed up in their room until the start of the fireworks display planned in town at around ten—_

_But of course it would be just my luck to trip and go tumbling down the stairs, only for them to find me sprawled on the landing with the incriminating box on full display._

_Fortunately no such debacle occurs, and I make it safely to the base of the steps without incident, the slight sheen of sweat that breaks out upon my brow going suddenly cold in the wake of the ceiling fan that is blowing a steady breeze into the foyer from its place on the living room ceiling. For a moment, I simply stand there, almost savoring the chilliness of the breeze in spite of the fact that it has caused goosebumps to prickle all over my skin. But then the skittering of a shadow as it moves across the space between the front door and the sidelight catches my eye, effectively forcing me into some semblance of forward motion as I realize Ali is probably about to come back inside and search for me herself._

_To avoid that outcome, I hurry towards the front door and wrench it open just in time to see Ali reaching for the knob herself, a skeptical expression taking over her features as she freezes in mid-movement and gives me a look that probably could actually kill someone, if given half the chance. Before she can say anything, though, I am jamming the box I snuck from her brother's room into her arms and brushing past her in search of the rest of our friends, or at least I am until the sound of her voice calling out after me effectively freezes me in place, my heart in my throat as I realize she has hurried over to me and looped her arm through my own as well._

_"Wow, Aves. I didn't think you'd actually do it."_

_"I kind of had a few reasons to go through with it, you know" I retort; unable to entirely prevent the bitterness from seeping into my tone, even in spite of how I know provoking her in this particular moment is just about the furthest thing from wise "Whether I wanted to or not."_

_"I guess I never expected Jason to mean that much to you."_

_"Yeah, well what you don't know may surprise you."_

_"And so we learn the little kitten has some bite" Ali quipped; squeezing my arm in what I can only interpret as her attempt at showing camaraderie, even though the gesture falls way short and I am half-tempted to wrench away "I'm proud of you."_

_"Great. Good to know."_

_"You could sound a bit more enthusiastic—"_

_"Oh, right. Sorry, Ali, next time I'm being blackmailed I'll be happier about it."_

_As soon as the words leave my mouth, I almost instantly regret them, particularly in light of how Alison's expression darkens for just a moment as she tugs on my arm, so that we both come to a stop beneath the fluorescent lighting of the motion sensor bulb that perches against the side of her home. The act, it seems, is forceful enough to cause my shoulder to give a mute pop in protest, my jaw dropping against my will as I struggle to come to terms with the sudden vehemence in Alison's temperament. _

_No matter how bad our previous disagreements were, she had never—never—almost caused me physical pain._

_"It's not blackmail if I'm trying to protect you" Ali hissed; the sharpness of her fingernails digging into my arm, though the pain is muted just a bit, since my skin is covered by the thin fabric of my jacket "I'm doing this for you, Ava. That's all it's ever been about."_

_"Then why bring Jason into it at all?" I demanded; my eyes flicking down to where Ali's fingers still curl around my arm, while my tongue darts out to wet my lower lip as though I am trying with all that I have to keep an even composure "Why threaten him, if this is only about me?"_

_"Because I know using him is the only way I can get you to do anything anymore. Which is honestly a bit disappointing since I always thought we were closer than that—"_

_"We were, Ali. We still can be, but this has to stop."_

_"What has to stop?"_

_"This! Using me, or using Jason, to get what you want!"_

_"You were the one who wanted Jenna's part in the recital, Aves. Not me" Ali argued; relinquishing her hold upon my arm so that she can place both hands on her hips as though she is about to scold a very small, very mischievous child "I was just trying to help."_

_"Well you can stop helping, Ali. After tonight, I'm done."_

_"Done? Oh I don't think so."_

_"I do. You can play your little games with everyone else, but count me out."_

_Before she has any chance to reply, I turn on a heel and begin the trek to the sidewalk just outside the fencing that surrounds her family's property, where I know the others will probably be waiting, my fingers toying idly with the hem of one sleeve of my jacket while I try to calm my racing heartbeat. Never before have I been able to stand up to Alison and actually walk away with the upper hand—or at least what I think is the upper hand—_

_Of course it was only later that I would come to the realization that I had just walked myself into a situation where I would be beholden to her for so much more than just keeping her lips sealed about a clandestine relationship…_

…...

"Wait, so you're not coming to dinner with Wren, Dad and Melissa?" Spencer inquired; leaning against the locker right next to my own, and giving me a pout so huge that I have to stifle a laugh "Please, you can't leave me alone with these people."

"I thought you liked Wren—"

"I do, but not enough to deal with Dad and Melissa besides."

"Oh come on, Spence, they're not _that _bad" I began; furrowing my brow as I attempt to remember if I should bring home my English Lit book, just in case, or leave that particular slew of reading for the upcoming weekend "Couldn't the two of you, I don't know, gang up on them or something?"

"Right, because that would end so perfectly."

"It's just a thought."

"A crappy one" Spencer joked; abandoning her pout in favor of nudging me rather playfully on the shoulder, and subsequently dodging out of the way as I move to retaliate in an instant "So, you going to tell me what it is that has you bailing on me, or am I going to have to guess?"

"I'm honestly debating just making you guess."

"Jerk."

"Why thank you."

"You're welcome" My sister replied; something in the hall behind me apparently catching her eye and causing her to flinch before she turns back to me and gives me the most startled expression I have ever seen "Oh. My. God."

"What?"

"Turn around."

Doing as she had instructed, I find that I am stunned into a motionless silence as Noel Kahn moves towards me, his smile very nearly blinding as he stretches out his arms, and pulls me into a bear hug as soon as the distance between us is closed.

"Guess who got a free pass out of lacrosse, Aviator?"

"Um—you?"

"Yep" Noel confirmed; releasing me from the surprisingly tight hold of his arms, and pushing me back just a bit as though to get a better look at my reaction to his news "And you know what that means."

"I do?"

"You should."

"Maybe you could give me a hint" I stated; trying for a smile, even in spite of the fact that Spencer is now eyeing me as though she is doubting my sanity "Don't think I had enough coffee this morning."

"I think we can fix that."

"Noel, I have dance practice—"

"After dance practice. Which I'll be watching, by the way" Noel stated; a smirk crossing his features almost as soon as he registers my wide-eyed look of surprise "Oh come on, Ava, don't act like you're not excited to show off your skills."

"I just didn't expect the opportunity" I managed; rolling my shoulders a bit in hopes of ridding myself of the spasm of nerves that seems determined to plague me, and tilting my head back just a bit to give Noel what I hope will be just another trademark 'Ava adores you' smile "But I won't say I'm not grateful."

"So this is what you're abandoning me for."

"Well technically rehearsal does go through the first part of dinner—"

"Right" Spencer acknowledged; gnawing idly on a fingernail for a moment before shaking her head, and giving me a look that clearly states I will be giving her every last detail of my evening as soon as I get back home "Well I guess I'll just let you two get to it, then."

"Gladly" Noel replied; slinging an arm around my shoulders, and pulling me tightly against his side even in spite of Spencer's rather obviously raised brow "I promise, I'll give her some good details to share with you later."

"Gee, thanks."

"Any time."

Aware of how Spencer's eyes are drilling into me as I offer her one last smile before allowing Noel to steer me around to head towards the auditorium, I do my best to ignore the desire to pull away, my own arm moving to wind around his waist while we round the corner and catch sight of the auditorium doors straight ahead. Though a part of me really is curious over the possibility of reconnecting with him, a still larger part is honestly questioning my own sanity…

After all, what exactly would provoke me into returning to a relationship that I'm not entirely sure was the best for me in the first place?

If only I knew the answer to that question.

…

Rehearsal went about as well as it could have, with my constant awareness of Noel's presence in one of the auditorium's overly cushy seats, though I would have been lying if I said I didn't exactly enjoy the extra set of eyes. Where my instructor's appraisal often trended towards the critical, Noel seemed to be exactly the opposite, his eyes roving over my frame for just a moment as he moves closer to the stage at the end of rehearsal, and leans both elbows on the edge as though he belongs there.

Maybe he does. Am I not, after all, only acting for the express purpose of getting him to notice?

"Lookin' good, Ava."

"Just good? God, and here I put in the extra effort, just for you" I quipped; stooping to plunk my bottom down on the edge of the stage, and hopping down to stand directly beside Noel so that my shoulder brushes against his bicep. As I expected, he reaches out with one hand to brush the stray lock of hair that has been bothering me almost since rehearsal began behind my ear, the act causing me to shiver just a bit before I am glancing up at him once again and doing my best to listen to his reply, even in spite of my still-pounding heartbeat from the intensity of rehearsal.

"Well maybe I was saving the majority of my compliments for later."

"Oh really?"

"Really" Noel confirmed; dragging his arm against the bare skin of my arm, until he reaches my hand, and can twine his fingers through my own "Unless you'd rather get them out of the way now."

"God no" I laughed; averting my gaze for a moment so that Noel will hopefully miss the blazing of my cheeks, and allowing him to lead me towards the door that will lead us to the parking lot, and consequently, his waiting car "I'm one of those girls that likes delayed gratification."

"That's good to know."

"Do you plan on doing anything about it?" I mused; bumping against Noel on purpose, and affecting a wide-eyed gasp as I realize the fancy new Camaro I had been eyeing as soon as we left the auditorium was, in fact, his "Wow. Score one for you."

"Score one of hopefully many more" Noel corrected; giving my hand a squeeze before releasing his hold on me in favor of pressing the key fab to unlock the car's passenger side door, and making a rather grandiose gesture to indicate I am permitted to take my seat "After you, madame."

"Why thank you, monsieur."

Not missing the almost debonair smile Noel gives me as he shuts the passenger door with a flourish and heads to the driver's side, I find that I am forcing myself to suppress a shiver of apprehension, though I cannot entirely discern its source. For a moment—only a moment, my mind flicks back to the one person I had tried so valiantly to forget, my teeth coming out to worry at my lower lip as I wonder once again about my reasons for hurrying off with Noel Kahn when I very likely would've been better served by heading straight home to spend time with my own family.

Yet another one of the things I would end up regretting about tonight…

Before I can go any farther in my rather maudlin internal musings, however, the sound of the driver's side door whisping open effectively jolts me from those musings, my eyes meeting Noel's stunning blue ones as he sends me another dazzling smile and jams the key in the ignition.

"Ready to go, Aviator?"

"Oh you have _no _idea—"

Misguided decision or not, there is something intensely gratifying about the whir of the engine as Noel guns the accelerator, and we peel out of the school parking lot towards bigger and better things.

…

A few hours later than I had anticipated, Noel pulls the Camaro into the driveway of my home, the engine still creating a comforting whir as he parks it, but doesn't cut the ignition. Truthfully, I am stunned, sitting there in my driveway, that my parents haven't already managed to spill out onto the lawn, itching to chastise me for my misdeeds, at least as they pertain to choosing dance, and Noel Kahn of all people, over time with them. After all, it's not like it's a secret that my family values the appearance of togetherness far more than the actual act…

I suppose that, in and of itself is one of the two reasons that I am a bit more than grateful that my family is not around to witness how drastically my mood shifts as I register the sensation of my phone buzzing from within the confines of my purse. Even though I have a gut-wrenching suspicion about who the sender might be—even though I can sense Noel leaning towards me from the driver's seat as though tempted to grab a kiss—I pull away and yank my phone out of my bag, my blood running cold as I read the text displayed in undeniable bold on the screen.

_Your BFF is dead, and you find a new guy? Maybe I need to find a different way to force you into showing a little remorse—A_

Below the text is a small thumbnail of a photo I can't exactly make out, my curiosity overwhelming the fear that is so inherent every time I receive one of these messages, and prompting me to open the text properly, only to have me stifling a shriek with one hand as I recognize the person in the photo as easily as though he stood directly before me.

_Jason_…

…

**Hello there, darlings! And welcome (finally!) to another new chapter! I am so very sorry for taking so long to get this one out to you guys…another fandom or two might have caught my attention and pulled me into a few more attempts at stories. Oops? Regardless, though, I do hope you can all forgive me for the wait. I promise you I am nowhere near done with this story!**

**As always, my heartfelt thanks go out to each and every one of you that have taken the time to read, follow, favorite, and review this tale so far! Special thanks, of course, go to my reviewers, Hope10, Pllfan, Princess1, Warriorqueen, Lady Bird, and Guest, for giving such wonderful feedback on chapter seven! I can only hope that this chapter was every bit as enjoyable as the last, and like always I cannot wait to hear what you think of this one! Keep those thoughts coming!**

**Until next time, loves…**

**MOMM**


	9. Chapter 9: Reaching Out

"Ava? Ava, what is it?" Noel demanded; the pressure of his hand on my forearm reaching me dimly, as though he is at one end of a tunnel, and I am at the other. In spite of the fact that I know I really should acknowledge him, somehow, I just—can't. It is as though I am stuck in some sort of mental limbo, my eyes locked on the screen of my phone until finally, I realize Noel is leaning towards me, and consequently getting a chance, purposeful or not, to see what it is that has me so immobilized.

"Seriously, Ava, you're kind of freaking me out, here."

"I—I'm fine. It's fine" I stammered; flipping my phone over so that the screen rests against my leg, and silently willing myself to pull it all together, even though I know that doing so is probably about the furthest thing from possible "I'm fine."

"Why don't I believe you?"

"Honestly, Noel? I don't even know how to answer that."

"You don't know how? Or you don't want to know how?"

"I have to go."

"Ava—"

"I have to go" I repeated; opening the passenger side door and hauling myself out of the car as though the seat has just caught fire "I've got homework, and my parents will probably want to know where I was, and—"

"You've had homework all night, and it didn't stop you until now" Noel argued; somehow managing to appear in front of me even though I could have sworn that not seconds before, he was still in the car "What's really going on, Aves?"

"Nothing."

"Right. Now I know you're lying to me."

"I'm not. I promise, Noel, please, just—just trust me, okay?"

Something in my pleading tone seems to finally win him over, even though I never honestly expected it to, his expression softening just a bit as he steps just a fraction of an inch closer, and reaches for my hand. We spend a moment, just like that, the pressure of his hand in mine surprisingly soothing even in spite of my reluctance to admit it. But of course the moment fades away almost as quickly as it comes, my mother's voice reaching me as though through a fog, and causing me to wrench away from Noel's hand as though I've just been burned.

"Ava, where the _hell _have you been?"

"I—I've been with Noel."

"And you never thought to call? Your father and I have been worried sick!"

"Ava's phone died, Mrs. Hastings" Noel supplied; surprising both myself, and my mother with the ease with which he inserted himself into the conversation, and making me absurdly grateful that I had the wherewithal to somehow stow the aforementioned device in my pants pocket before my mother could unravel his hastily constructed lie "She didn't realize until well after it had happened, and my own phone is still at my house, where I left it this morning."

"You couldn't find anyone else to let you borrow a phone?"

"We left right after dance, Mom. And like Noel said, I didn't notice until after that point, so—"

"So you just came home" Mom supplied; something in her expression indicating that she is not entirely convinced, though to her credit, she does a great show of pretending that she does, at least for Noel's sake "Well, thank you, Noel, but I can take care of my daughter from here."

"You're sure?"

I am almost tempted to laugh at the look that Noel's remark earns him from my mother, just as I am simultaneously forced to acknowledge that he doesn't even seem remotely swayed by it. For a moment, I find myself wondering if his parents have never even bothered to worry about him in such a way that it provokes snapped accusations, and bewildered scorn. But of course almost as soon as the thought crosses my mind, I am shoving it aside, my attention returning to my mother once again as she turns her gaze to me, and I find that I am now the subject of her pointed stare.

"She's sure, Noel" I managed; extricating myself from my place by his side, and moving to stand beside my mother instead "I'll see you tomorrow at school, okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, okay."

To my surprise, before he turns and heads back to his car, Noel steps forward to pull me into a startlingly tight embrace, his lips pressing gently against the base of my neck, and provoking a shiver in response. Before my mother can have a chance at realizing exactly what he's done, though, I find that I am wrenching away once again, my feet carrying me backwards until I am standing a safe distance away from Noel, and he, in turn, is clambering into his car and driving away. It takes me a moment to realize that I am now standing alone in the driveway, my mom having spun around on a heel almost as soon as Noel's car sped out of view to head back into the house.

I know her well enough to realize that the gesture means I am to follow immediately, whether I want to or not.

…

"So on a scale of one to ten, how busted are you?" Spencer inquired; scooting over just a bit on her bed, and lifting a brow when I opt for moving back to her bedroom door to shut it with a snap in lieu of a reply. I spend a second by the door, waiting to hear the tell-tale sounds of our parents, or even Melissa ambling around downstairs, only to find no evidence that we risk being overheard. And as soon as I am assured that no one is about to intrude, I turn back to face my sister, my back leaning against the cool wood of the door while I reach with one hand into my pants pocket to hand her my phone.

"What—why are you giving me your phone?"

"You're the genius, Spence. You tell me."

Seeming to sense my distress, Spencer simply takes the phone, punching in my passcode in such a way that makes me suppress a smile at how well she knows me, and my habits. Over and over, she had lectured me on creating a better password—something unbreakable that would protect whatever was on my phone or laptop from unwanted eyes.

I guess my lack of interest in said lectures served her well, now, as she was able to get into the phone itself with predictable ease, and maneuver on instinct to the particular message I wanted her to see.

"Oh my God—"

"Yeah. Oh my God" I repeated; folding my arms across my chest as a last-ditch effort to give myself some reason of feeling at ease when I know that such a thing is the farthest thing from possible, given the circumstances. For a moment, Spencer just watches me, glancing between my features and the phone screen in even intervals as though waiting to see if I am going to say anything further.

Naturally, it only takes her a matter of seconds to realize that I am not entirely capable of saying anything at all.

"Did you—have you even heard from Jason? Since the funeral, I mean" She inquired; flipping my phone around so that it can rest, face-down, on the bedspread while I shake my head in silent denial "Do you think you should try to contact him, now?"

"Honestly, Spence? I have no idea if he'd even want to hear from me."

"You and I both know that he probably would."

"And how do we know that if I do, that won't prompt A to—to act on their threat?" I demanded; my voice cracking just a bit in spite of my desire to avoid it as I finally move across the room and flop down beside my sister on the bed "I can't risk that."

"From where I'm sitting you can't risk doing nothing, either."

"What am I supposed to do, then? Text him out of nowhere, 'oh hey Jason, long time no talk but you might be in danger from a nameless psycho that's trying to make your sister's friends' lives hell?'"

"Well I wouldn't exactly put it like that" Spencer countered; something in her tone and the slight twitch of the corner of her lip prompting a snort of amusement from me, even in the face of the tension I could still feel eating away at my nerves like some insatiable virus "But given your—your history with him—"

"I owe it to him to at least try?"

"Something like that, yeah."

"What am I supposed to say?" I pressed; leaning back so that I am resting on my elbows on the bedspread, and rolling my head this way and that in an attempt to loosen the muscles of my neck "We don't even know that it's a real threat."

"This person knows things about us that we never told anyone. Can we really afford to pretend that it's not?"

Aware that she is right, even though I really wish with everything I have that she is not, I settle for simply allowing my body to sag limply onto the bedspread, my eyes closing while I take the heels of my hands and press them against my temples. A muted groan leaves me, even as I feel the mattress dip in response to how Spencer shifts her weight so that she can recline on her back beside me. For a moment, we simply exist like that, splayed out on her bed in silence, like we used to always do after a particularly nasty fight with our parents, or Melissa. But almost as soon as I am wishing I can actually get lost in that moment, I find that I am broken from it just as quickly, the pressure of Spencer's hand on my shoulder jolting me back to the present as I open my eyes and realize she is leaning on her elbow, eyeing me as though her life depends on it.

"Look, I don't know what the two of you actually had, or how it ended, but I think you owe it to Jason to at least give him a heads-up, okay?"

I can do nothing, then, but manage a simple nod, my heart already knowing she was right even though my mind was fighting tooth and nail against it…

…

Almost three hours later I find myself tossing and turning in my own bed, unable to sleep, my eyes occasionally darting to where my phone rested on my bedside table as though hoping that in doing so, I could somehow summon the willpower to do as Spencer had instructed, and contact Jason myself. I know I should. That I owe it to him to at least give him some warning in case whoever is dogging me—_us_—decides to actually act on their threats.

Given how things went at Ali's funeral, though, I can honestly say I am dreading what his response may be if I try to contact him at all. But no matter my worry for him, though, I cannot bear the thought of receiving silence as an answer.

With a groan, that particular thought finally prompts me to haul myself into a seated position on my bed, my legs swinging over the edge to graze against the plush carpeting for a moment before I lean over to the table to reach for my phone. Instinct has me immediately seeking out my contacts, and scrolling through until I get to Jason's name—yet another reminder that I was reluctant to let go of the past, seeing as he was still listed under the 'favorites' tab—

I can do this. I can. Right?

Steeling my nerves as best I can, I select the name I can't seem to get out of my head, and bring up the window to compose a text, my heart thudding rather obnoxiously in my ears the entire time. I pause for a moment, trying to determine whether or not I want to come out with the true reason behind my decision to reach out right away, or if I should hold back and see if I even get a response.

After all, it's not like I've never concealed the whole truth from him before…

That thought, faulty as it may be, is enough to push me in the direction of progress, of course, my shoulders squaring a bit in something like determination while I compose my attempt at a message.

_Can we talk?—Ava _

God, that was a sucky opener if I ever saw one, but that fact notwithstanding, I toss my phone back on the bedside table and flop onto my back once more, my eyes sticking to the ceiling this time as I listen to the seconds tick by on the clock on the wall beside the door.

One Mississippi—two Mississippi—_buzz_.

I remain frozen in bed for a moment, doubting that my ears have heard what I think they heard, while my nerves seem to zing with a sort of electric apprehension. A part of me wonders if this is just another text from the seemingly omnipotent 'A'—a 'gotcha' of sorts, to send me even further into the world of panic than I already am. But before I can lose my nerve entirely, I force myself to sit and grab the phone once again, my eyes widening a bit as I glance down at the screen and find that the reply I had imagined to be so elusive was, in reality, rather quick in coming.

_Sure. You free this weekend?_

Surprised, to say the least, I suppress whatever lurch of nervousness has decided to spring up in response to the prospect of actually seeing Jason, in the flesh, my fingers rapidly typing out a reply as though it had been merely hours, and not months since our last exchange of messages.

_What were you thinking?_

_Lunch Saturday? You okay?_

_Sure thing. Where?_

_You didn't answer my question._

Unable to stifle the laugh that broke free in response to the almost predictable quip, I scoot back far enough on the bed so that I can cross my legs, my elbows coming to rest upon my knees before I reply.

_Technically, I answered one of them._

Silence—one Mississippi, two Mississippi—still nothing—

_Yeah, I'm fine._

_Good. The Grille, then? Noon?_

_You really want to do this in Rosewood?_

_Where else?_

Pausing for a moment, I try and fail to find a suitable excuse for keeping away from the town where he knew as well as I that there was literally _someone _always watching, whatever eagerness I had felt to see Jason again almost immediately falling away in the face of being caught together after so much time apart. It wasn't that I was afraid of the whole town, necessarily—just my parents, and, more particularly, whoever it was that was sending the mystery texts.

But of course even in the face of that apprehension, I cannot help but give in to what Jason appears to want—maybe even need—the sigh that leaves me only halfway resigned as I reply.

_Okay. The Grille sounds great._

_See you then._

Despite the rather abrupt and almost impersonal end to the conversation, I have to say I am at least a little bit proud of myself for actually going through with the act of reaching out to him, my nerves abating just a bit as I realize perhaps this is the step forward that we both actually need. Whatever happens—whether we end up coming to some sort of tentative arrangement in terms of our former relationship, or even if we agree to stay apart, I know that giving him the warning that Spencer pushed me towards is the right thing to do.

I can only hope that I don't end up making his own situation worse, in the process.

…

_(July 4, 2009)_

_I am not sure what it is that has me so transfixed as the flames from our inopportune fireworks display spiral upwards into the night sky, but for some inexplicable reason, I cannot seem to force myself to look away. It all went so very wrong, of course—so very, very wrong, but now there is no going back. The police are already here, of course. They've already hauled Toby away, though we all know damn well that he is not the one that belongs in the back of a squad car. _

_And that, of course, is when it happens; the sensation of rather sharp fingernails digging into the skin of my arm causing me to whip around and come face to face with Ali for the second time that night._

_"Surprised you kept your mouth shut—"_

_"Yeah, beginning to think I made a mistake on that one" I retort; yanking my arm away, and taking a few steps back from Ali as though I really think it'll make that much of a difference "You do realize if Toby decides to change his story, we're toast."_

_"He won't."_

_"How the hell do you know that? You're not omnipotent, Alison."_

_"In this case, I may as well be" Ali quips; one corner of her mouth tilting up in an almost skeletal half-smile before she saunters over to me once again, and links her arm through mine before I can fully stop it "I've got something on poor little Toby that'll keep him silent for as long as I need him to be."_

_"Oh? And what's that? Or am I not allowed to know?"_

_"Of course you're allowed to know, Aves, I trust you more than anyone! Why else do you think I asked you to be the one to find the firecracker to begin with?"_

_"Because you had a premonition I'd be the only one dumb enough to actually let you have your way?"_

_"No, silly, because I knew that no matter what happened, in the end you'd have my back like always."_

_"Oh, well I'm glad I can be useful somehow" I snap; stopping in my tracks, and once again wrenching myself free of Alison's grasp so quickly that she actually stumbles a bit before righting herself, and giving me a look that makes it abundantly clear all former traces of amusement in her features are now gone._

_"You're going to want to keep being useful if you're as smart as I think you are."_

_"Wow, and here I figured you thought I was just the beauty of our little equation, leaving you with all the brains—"_

_"I don't think you understand what I'm saying, Ava" Ali coos; opting for sliding her hands into her pants pockets instead of attempting any contact with me, a fact for which I am abundantly grateful, at least until the next words leave her mouth "You're forgetting who that firecracker we used really belongs to."_

_"There's no way of telling where it came from."_

_"Oh but I think there is. The thing about firecrackers, Aves, is that sometimes they burn in an unpredictable, and often incomplete way."_

_"Meaning?"_

_"Meaning someone just might find a fragment of a label, and that someone may put two and two together."_

_"The only way they're going to find a label is if someone—"_

_"Go on."_

_"You wouldn't" I hiss; the realization of what she's done hitting me with about as much impact as ice would, were it to suddenly freeze in my veins "Ali, he's your brother!"_

_"He's serving as a means to an end now, though, isn't he?" Alison replies; once again stepping towards me, and permitting her features to resettle themselves into the chilling smile that plagued them not moments ago "He's going to keep you quiet."_

_"Ali, please—"_

_"Please what? Please don't involve him? I won't have to, as long as you keep to your end of the arrangement."_

_"And what end would that be?" I demand; squaring my shoulders in an attempt at showing more determination than I feel, given the fact that I know very well that if I do fail to keep up what I suspect is my end of the bargain, I'll be risking far more than just my own life in the process—a fact that Alison readily confirms with the small scrap of paper she pulls from her pocket to wave back and forth in my face._

_"You're going to let Toby take the fall for this, and for what happened to Jenna. And as long as you do, I won't decide to show this to the police, and land Jason in a whole world of trouble as a result."_

_Whether I like it or not, she has just bought my silence with even the slightest hint of implicating Jason in this entire charade…_

…

**Hello there, my dearies, and welcome to another new chapter in Ava's tale! I must confess, this one is a bit shorter than I would have liked, and I am not entirely sure that I'm pleased with it, myself. Regardless, though, I do hope that at least a few of you enjoyed it…and like always, I cannot wait to hear what you think!**

**My heartfelt thanks go out to each and every one of you that has taken the time to read, follow, favorite, and review this story so far (and special thanks go out to my reviewers on last chapter: Hope10, Pllfan, Princess1, Warriorqueen, Lady Bird, and Guest)! I truly do appreciate the support, and I implore you, as always, to leave your thoughts on this latest foray into Pretty Little Liars! I hope you found it worth your while to read!**

**Until next time, darlings…**

**MOMM**


	10. Chapter 10: Afternoon Gone Awry

The remainder of the week passes by relatively uneventfully, in spite of the apprehension I still find myself susceptible to every single time my phone buzzes with an incoming text. Fortunately, each one seemed only to be from people that I actually knew—my parents, Spencer, Aria or Hanna—but even so, I could not entirely suppress the jolt of nerves that curdled in my stomach each time my phone gave the simplest little blip…

With as many little blips as the thing gave, by the end of each day, saying that I was anything other than exhausted would have been a lie.

Still, I somehow managed to survive until the weekend with my sanity at least partially intact, my current position on the sofa in the den with my AP History book sprawled out before me so I can scrawl down notes while I read only barely succeeding in giving off the impression that I am actually being productive. In truth, I'd be a liar if I pretended that I have any hope of getting homework done today, particularly given what I know is coming in just a few short hours.

Although a small part of me is eager to see Jason again, I cannot help but fall prey to the familiar sinking sensation as I once again force myself to recall exactly why the meeting was rendered necessary to begin with.

As if it wasn't bad enough that 'A' was taunting my friends and I, they had now taken to bringing in the one person that I never wanted to risk as well.

For what felt like the thousandth time in the mere two hours since I had been awake, my thoughts stray back to the text I received earlier in the week, my teeth coming out to worry at my lower lip as I flip idly at the pages of my history book in the vain hope that it will distract me into some semblance of productivity. Naturally, the effort is wasted, though I do force myself to keep my eyes riveted upon the pages as I become aware of the fact that Melissa and our mother have just entered the room, my posture shifting just a bit as I do what little I can to force myself to appear more relaxed.

"Hey, honey. How's studying?" Mom asks, her tone light—curious, though she allows herself to become easily preoccupied in the act of removing groceries from one of the canvas bags she places on the kitchen island behind where I sit. Even in spite of the fact that I have barely even managed to turn away from my book, I can practically feel her eyes boring into the back of my skull, waiting for me to either reply with ease, or slip up somehow and land myself in what might amount to another inquisition the likes of which I received when Noel brought me home a few days ago. And although I really do not want to reply at all, on account of my nerves making it almost impossible for me to trust the nature of that response, I force myself to slip my notes and history book away so that I can turn and face her head on, a tentative smile gracing my features as I take a breath and hope that I am not looking too suspect.

"Alright. I think I'm going to need a bit more time this afternoon to really feel comfortable, though," I state, the fingers of one hand reaching out to latch onto a nearby throw pillow so that I can fiddle with the frayed edges of string that hang decoratively over its edge, "I hope that's okay."

"You're not coming to the club with Melissa and I?"

"I really don't think I'd better, no."

"Well, if you need the extra time to study," Mom acknowledges, a frown marring her brow as she places a bottle of wine on the counter, and risks a glance at Melissa as though trying to gauge her reaction as well, "We'll miss you though."

"I promise I'll go next weekend."

"You'd better."

"Trust me, Melissa, I'm not going to pass up _every _chance I get to whoop you in tennis."

"Ha-ha. Very funny," My older sister retorts, sending an eye-roll my way, while simultaneously sharing in laughter with both our mother, and myself, before reaching for the wine bottle and moving to place it in the refrigerator, "Don't make promises you can't keep, Ava."

"I never do."

Thrilled at how both my mother, and older sister seem satisfied with our exchange, miniscule as it was, I allow myself to turn back towards my fruitless attempts at studying, a low sigh of relief escaping as I allow myself to come to terms with the fact that I have successfully given myself an out for a Saturday afternoon routine that is otherwise unbreakable. Honestly, I am a bit surprised that both my mother and Melissa bought my hastily constructed lie so easily, particularly as neither one of them are usually that easy to fool. But of course no matter my surprise, I am not about to complain, particularly as I become aware that the two of them have finished with the groceries already, and are on their way to the back patio without so much as a backward glance.

For once, it seems, luck appears to be on my side…

…

Precisely two hours later I find myself seated at one of the grille's outside tables, sunglasses doing at least some bit of good in terms of shielding my eyes from the glare of the sun while I watch each person that is walking past as though determined that if I glance away for even a second, I'll miss Jason's arrival. I'm not sure why it's so imperative, in that moment, that I see him actually walking towards me, particularly as I am still nervous as hell for what this lunch together will entail.

Regardless, though, it would seem I am utterly powerless to avert my gaze, my heart doing a curious little flip as I realize that Jason is apparently going to be right on time…

_Breathe—I just need to breathe—_

Funnily enough, that task alone is far easier than I anticipated, an instinctive smile toying at the corners of my mouth as I scoot my chair back with an almost embarrassingly loud scrape against the concrete in order to wave Jason over to our table. Almost immediately, his attention turns towards me, the brightness of the sun seeming to rather mercifully hide my blush with the excuse of a possible minor sunburn—and before I know it, he has reached our assigned table, and is pulling me in for an unexpected embrace, my arms winding around him on instinct as I find myself at least momentarily distracted by the sensation of being squashed against him, and the inherent comfort that reality provides.

"Hey, you," Jason greets, giving me one final squeeze before he is pulling back at arm's length, and looking me over as though trying to discern any changes that might have taken place since the last time we were together, "I have to admit, you shocked me with your text—"

"Good shock, or bad?" I reply, my tone surprisingly light even in the face of the fact that I feel a spasm of regret over how both of Jason's hands drop back to his sides, and consequently rob me of the sense of contact that had been so comforting just moments before.

"Good. Definitely good."

"Well, color me relieved."

"From where I'm sitting, you don't need to worry about feeling relieved at all."

"Oh? And why is that?"

"Come on, Ava, you should know the answer to that question by now," Jason states, moving to take the seat across from me, and leaning back against the chair in such a way that has me swallowing another resurgence of nerves before he diverts my attention once more with his next words, "You know you can always text or call."

"Even after—after everything?"

"Even then, yes."

"I guess that's good to know," I manage, momentarily averting my gaze and fiddling with a napkin while I attempt to gather my next thoughts into some semblance of order, "So you—how've you been since—since the funeral?"

"Well enough. You?"

"Me—"

"Yeah. You," Jason confirms, shifting just enough so that he can lean forward with both elbows rested upon our table, the fingers on one hand flexing as though he wishes, for a moment, to reach for my own, "You buried Ali that day, same as I did."

"I know, but—it's not like it's the same exact set of circumstances."

"How isn't it?"

"I—she's your sister, Jason," I protest, aware of how his expression has somehow hardened in spite of how his fingers flex once again as though he still wishes to reach for my hand, "That's not really the same as friend and you know it."

"Just like you know that you were a hell of a lot closer to Ali than I ever was."

"Jason—"

"Ava, you know you were," Jason interrupts, startling me with the obvious vehemence in his tone—a vehemence that succeeds in causing me to flinch even in spite of my desire to avoid it, "You and your friends were her entire reason for existing. I was—I was just her stoner brother."

"You know it wasn't like that."

"Yeah, I kind of think it was."

"Well you might be surprised to know that she wasn't always on my side, either," I admit, glancing towards my hands, and coming to the sudden realization that I have rather effectively shredded the napkin I have been fiddling with to bits without even knowing it, "

"Really?"

"Really."

"In what way?"

"You probably don't even want to know. And I didn't—that's not what I wanted this lunch to turn into when I asked you initially."

"What did you want it to turn into?" Jason asks, his curiosity apparent, even though it was also quite clear that he was doing whatever he could to keep it under wraps.

"Just—I wanted us to maybe just—"

"Just what, Ava?"

"Talk?"

"I thought that's what we _were _doing."

"Well yeah," I begin, aware of the flush that has taken it upon itself to adorn my cheeks, and doing what I can to ignore it as I move instead to tuck a stray lock of dark hair behind my ear for want of anything else to do with my hand, "But I didn't want our conversation to focus on-"

"On Alison?"

"Unless you wanted it to."

"Believe me, I don't want it to," Jason confesses, a soft laugh escaping him as he reaches forward to assist me when a sudden gust of wind blows my hair in haphazard tangles around my face. Predictably, our combined efforts cause our hands to brush together on more than one occasion, the end result serving to have my cheeks flushing in such a way that I am absolutely certain that a 'sunburn' as an excuse will be out of the question.

God but how I wished I had inherited my sister's ability to remain unflappable no matter what circumstances I faced…

Regardless of my lack of masking my embarrassment, however, I am fully aware of the weight of Jason's gaze as we succeed in resettling my hair into some semblance of order, and I can see him completely once more. For a moment or maybe several, we remain in silence, distracted in our own right by the slow return of his hand to the table, after he is satisfied that another blow of wind will not compromise my ability to see. But almost as soon as I am tempted to reach for that hand, the mutual silence is broken, the sudden shadow falling over our table that signifies the waitress' arrival rather effectively shattering whatever it was that existed between us as we are both forced to divert our attention to her overly bubbly personality as she began to take our orders.

It would have been a lie to pretend that I was not just a bit aggravated at how easily whatever that 'moment' was had been blown away just as my hair had been by the wind…

…

In spite of its initial tentative awkwardness, the remainder of my lunch with Jason passes with relative ease, the conversation straying easily from school, to his own habits, to whether or not he sees himself ever returning to Rosewood on his own. The answer—that he did not really know—was understandable in its own right, of course, though I would have been a fool to pretend that the lack of certainty was not the least bit disheartening. But even in the face of that reality, I was unable to fully allow my discouragement to ruin the mood of the afternoon, one brow lifting as Jason reaches across the table to snag one of my uneaten French fries, and effectively distracts me from my internal musings once again.

"You're welcome."

"I didn't think you'd mind," He counters, flooring me with a wink, and inadvertently ensuring my acquiescence as he plucks another fry from my plate with a confident ease, "You never did before."

"Fair point," I concede, a smile crossing my features as I pluck one of the fries from my plate so that I can eat it before Jason has a chance, "I suppose I should thank you."

"For what?"

"For saving me from an early death thanks to coronary artery disease, diabetes, and high cholesterol, obviously."

"Wow. Never thought I had that much of a hero complex, before," Jason teases, the sudden sensation of something bumping against my shin causing me to jump as I realize he has just kicked me, albeit gently, with the toe of his shoe beneath the table, "Don't tell anyone, okay?"

"My lips are sealed," I promise, sharing in a laugh as I realize Jason was, at least on the surface, only joking about his desire for my silence, and deciding to push my plate away from me so that if he wishes, he can finish the fries that remain on his own, "Though I personally can't see why you wouldn't want anyone else to know something like that."

"Maybe I just don't think anyone would believe it, even if they did know."

"Why is that?"

"I'm the stoner, remember? I kind of have an image to maintain."

"Says the guy who got himself into an ivy league school even in spite of said image."

"I guess everyone has to break the norm sometime," Jason quips, the shadow of something unrecognizable crossing his features, though after only a fraction of a moment, they have once again rearranged themselves into a neutral sort of calm, "Seriously, though, I think we both know the 'hero' type isn't me."

"Could've fooled me."

"Maybe you're just biased."

"Oh really," I begin, leaning back in my chair, and folding both arms across my chest while attempting to adopt my best expression of doubt over Jason's claim, "And how exactly might that be?"

"You never exactly fell in with the crowd when everyone else thought I was a bad egg, Ava. That's how."

"Because I knew you weren't!"

"Again. Biased," Jason states, the grin he levels my way causing a sudden tugging sensation to drift through my abdomen as though an invisible cord has been attached to my belly button, "I don't think your opinion would matter to most of those other people."

"Then screw those other people."

"Ouch."

"What? It's an appropriate sentiment," I explain, something in the surety of my tone shocking me, even as I find myself all but unable to resist going on, "You're a good person, Jason. And if you won't see it yourself, I guess I'll just have to instead."

"Someone's determined."

"You sound so surprised."

"I guess I shouldn't be, should I?" Jason muses aloud, picking apart one of my abandoned French fries almost absently, while his attention remains almost resolutely fixated upon me, "Not with past history to back you up."

"Not really, no."

"Well would you be happy to know that it's endearing?"

"What's endearing?"

"Your stubbornness."

"Most others don't consider that a good quality, you know," I counter, watching as Jason pops one of the torn up bits of French fry into his mouth, and finding myself completely unable to deny myself the opportunity to watch him while he eats, "I mean, my own parents are included in that group, sometimes—"

"I think they'd fall into the group that thinks I'm still useless, too."

"Well I don't. And I never will."

Silence passes unbidden at the conclusion of my remark—a silence that, while not entirely uncomfortable, still renders me helpless to do anything other than glance at where my hands rest before me on the table, while my cheeks once again take up the task of burning as though their existence depends on them. Somehow, the blatant honesty of just moments before seems to have brought an end to our former easy ability to carry on a conversation, and before I am even aware of it, an uncharacteristically strained quality takes its place, my eyes only glancing up to meet Jason's once again as I realize he has taken the liberty to break the silence himself.

"Your text from the other day—it seemed like you wanted to discuss something other than what we've been up to since the funeral," He says, startling me with the sudden business-like quality of his demeanor, and forcing me to clear my throat in an attempt to clear the unexpected lump that seems all but determined to block off my next words before they can be uttered.

"I—I did. But it doesn't—it really seems trivial, now," I admit, suddenly cautious in the wake of Jason's withdrawal, and entirely reluctant to promote further distance rising between us with the disclosing of my threatening text, "I really don't want to worry you unnecessarily."

"Worry me about what?"

"About—"

Just as I am about to reach into my purse, bring out my cell, and come clean, however, I find that I am altogether distracted, this time by the shadow of not our waitress, but Noel Kahn hovering over our table, his presence causing me to freeze with my hand half-in and half-out of my purse while I glance desperately at Jason for some way in which to gauge his reaction.

If only it were that easy…

"Hey, Aviator," Noel greets me, an easy smile gracing his features as he reaches out and brushes my cheekbone with his fingertip in a way that almost prompts me to flinch away, "Never thought I'd find you here."

"And yet here I am—"

"You free for dinner, tonight?"

"Actually, Noel, I have a lot of homework to finish up," I demur, pulling away from his touch, and endeavoring to make it appear as though I am simply set upon reclining in my chair, rather than recoiling in an effort to avoid him, personally, "And Melissa and my mom are probably due back from the club soon, too."

"That didn't stop you from letting someone take you to lunch."

"That was a prearranged plan."

"If we plan dinner now, that can be prearranged, too."

"Noel—"

"I think Ava already gave you her answer," Jason interjects, stunning me with the sudden ferocity in his tone, and giving me reason to believe that he does not trust Noel, or his intentions about dinner, in the slightest, "And if she has homework to catch up on, you probably do, too."

"Who are you, her teacher?"

"Who are you, her boyfriend?"

"Okay, is this really necessary?" I inquire, my voice cracking in spite of my desire to avoid it as I give Noel a quelling look, before turning to look at Jason, instead, "For the record, Noel, he's a friend. And I _do_ have homework."

"Anything I can help you with?"

"No. You hate history, remember?"

"Only too well," Noel agrees, his aggravation dissipating in the wake of my pleading expression, and somehow granting him the ability to remove his attention from Jason in favor of giving me a slight smile, "Text me if your night frees up?"

"I—yeah. I'll try."

Apparently satisfied with my answer, Noel spares me one final wave before walking away and rejoining a group of lacrosse teammates at another table, my eyes following him reluctantly, as though I am determined that he will somehow decide to return. I am uncertain exactly how long I remain, watching him, my teeth digging into my lower lip as though my anxiousness is determined to seek proof of its relevance. But almost as soon as some small snippet of consciousness decides to prompt me to look back towards Jason, so as to not appear as though I am ignoring him, I find that he is moving to stand, one hand digging into a back pocket so that he can pull out his wallet, and place a twenty on the table between us.

"I—Jason, I can pay for this," I stammer, my own hand once again moving to dig through my purse, though my eyes remain fixed upon his own, "I am the one that dragged you out here, you know."

"Don't be silly, Ava, I've got it."

"But—"

"I've got it," He persists, glancing towards Noel's table on his own, such that a frown mars his brow as he stands for a moment in silence, before turning back to me, "I should probably let you get back to that homework, though."

"Jason, you don't have to go!" I exclaim, some small part of me falling prey to silent chastisement as I realize that Noel's inopportune interruption had effectively ruined what might have turned into a pleasant afternoon, not to mention thwarted me of a plausible means of disclosing my concern to Jason himself for his own protection, "I—I'm sorry about Noel. He just—"

"He just likes inserting himself into other people's affairs?"

"Yeah. Something like that."

"Well he's not unique in that regard," Jason asserts, adding a five dollar bill to the twenty now resting on the table, and looking past me to some unknown sight beyond before going on, "_Is _he your—"

"My boyfriend?" I supply, flabbergasted by the hesitancy with which Jason fumbles over the sentence, and also surprised by my resultant flushing, as though I truly do have some connection to Noel that has just been exposed, "I—no, Jason, it's not like that."

"You sure?"

I want to tell him that I am sure. I _need _to, because I can tell that if I do not, he will come to the wrong conclusion. But in spite of those desires, I find that I am utterly, stubbornly silent in the wake of Jason's inquiry, my senses dulling as though determined to rob me of the ability to speak on a more permanent basis.

Of course, that silence has Jason doing exactly as I feared, his expression once again becoming unreadable as he takes a step back away from our table, and redirects his gaze towards me once more.

"I'll see you around, Ava. Thanks for lunch."

"Thank _you_. You're the one who bought."

My remark is only barely acknowledged with a small nod before Jason is turning on a heel and heading back in the direction from which he came what seems like only moments before, his departure filling me with an unsettling sense of loss as I struggle to come to terms with my sudden solitude in the outdoor patio. For a moment, I remain exactly as I am, as though frozen in my shock at how quickly the afternoon turned sour. But almost as soon as that moment comes, the shrill bleeping of my cell phone ends it in an instant, my heart hammering its now familiar erratic pattern of beats as I reach for the device, and glance with a newfound sense of dread at the words scrolling across the screen.

_Maybe it's for the best that he's gone. People that spend too much time doting on you are going to end up getting hurt–A_

…

**Well hello there, angels! And welcome (finally!) to chapter ten! I have to say, I had no intention of letting it take this long to crank out a new chapter, but what with scrambling to transition from working in an office, to being told we're going work from home (admittedly not a bad change, in my opinion) and getting caught up in other fandoms, coupled with PLL being removed from Netflix kind of put a dent in my productivity. Never fear, though—I've found PLL again on Amazon Prime. And spending a portion of this latest week off from work watching season one again apparently jolted the muses back into action! **

**As always, my heartfelt thanks go out to each and every one of you that has taken the time to read, follow, favorite, and review this story so far (and for those of you that have remained patient with me in my occasional lulls in posting as well)! I truly could not do any of this without your support, and it is my sincerest hope that you all enjoyed this chapter as much as you have the last! I know that Jason and Ava didn't exactly get the full fluffy/romantic lunch that some of you might have hoped for. But I tend to stray towards the angsty in most of my stories, so I hope that you don't mind what I've done here!**

**Special thanks, like always, go to last chapter's reviewers: paranoires, Hope10, Princess1, Warriorqueen, Lady Bird, Loving Liar, and Guest! I truly do appreciate your support, and I cannot wait to hear what you think of this latest installment!**

**Until next time?**

**MOMM**


	11. Chapter 11: Confessions and Trepidation

"So—how was it?"

"How was what?"

"Oh come on, Ava, you know exactly what I'm talking about," Spencer states, snapping her history book shut, and leaning forward to place her elbow on her knee so that her chin can rest upon the upturned palm of her hand, "Just tell me. It'll be much less painful if you get it out in the open now, and stop dragging it out."

"I'm not dragging it out!"

"Oh yeah? Then why are you blushing so hard, huh?"

Unable to deny Spencer's claim no matter how much I may want to, in light of the obvious burning I feel in my cheeks as a result of the intent nature of her gaze, I find myself ducking my head down to stare at my laptop screen for a moment, my teeth worrying at my lower lip while I struggle to come up with a suitable reply. I know that she will not buy anything les than the full story. That she has always possessed an uncanny ability for reading my expressions before I even get a chance at schooling them into something that is less like an open book. But in spite of that awareness I am still not entirely sure how best to explain what it is that happened earlier this afternoon, a frown marring my brow as I close the laptop and slide it off of my lap and onto the bed beside me before I finally reply.

"It was—eventful?" I begin, aware that Spencer is preparing a follow up question almost immediately, and holding up a hand to stop her in the act so that I can elaborate further on my own, "I mean, it was good to see Jason again, but—"

"But?"

"But Noel showed up, and said some things that Jason clearly didn't like, so he left."

"Wow," Spencer says, a sympathetic expression almost immediately crossing her features as she simultaneously reaches out to give my forearm a gentle squeeze, "What did he say?"

"You really want the specifics?"

"How long have you known me, Ava?"

"Fair point," I concede, forcing my gaze to meet my sister's eyes, despite how I want so fiercely to be able to simply keep staring at her hand on my arm as though it is the most interesting thing in the world, "He asked if I could go to dinner with him tonight, pretty much didn't believe me when I said I had homework, and called Jason my teacher."

"So basically, Noel was just being Noel, and he drove Jason away."

"Basically."

"Did you at least get to tell him about the text?" Spencer inquires, her expression falling almost immediately as she registers my shake of the head that only too clearly indicates denial, "Crap."

"Yeah. Crap."

"Well—maybe you could text him again? Later on in the week?"

"I kind of doubt he wants to hear from me anymore, Spence," I disagree, the spasm of pain that ricochets through my chest as the thought really hits home surprising me, and causing tears to burn at my eyes such that I am forced to look away from my sister in an attempt at masking it, "He seemed pretty upset."

"Yeah, but you always had a way of getting through to him before."

"I'm pretty sure this time, that won't work."

"Ava—" Spencer persists, an expression that is an equal mix of both pity, and concern taking over her features, and causing me to push myself off of the bed in favor of going to stand beside her bedroom window, instead, "Come on, you know him better than that, don't you? He knows _you _better than that."

"You weren't there, Spence. You didn't see the look on his face before he left. He couldn't—it was like he couldn't even look at me."

"Do you know what they usually call something like that?"

"What?"

"Jealousy."

"Come on, Spencer, be realistic, here!" I protest, my brow furrowing in response to the sudden crack in my voice as I turn back from the window to look at my sister directly, "That's definitely _not _what it was."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Uh-huh. Sure you are."

"Spence!"

"I'm just saying, when a guy goes all quiet after another guy flirts with his girl, jealousy isn't that far off the mark," My sister states, something in how her tone seems to indicate some sort of innate wisdom causing me to crack a faint grin even in spite of my inherent doubt over her assertion in and of itself. Of course, I appreciate what she is trying to do, no matter how much I may be attempting to deny that her claims have any basis in fact.

Why, then, can I not just accept what she says at face value, instead of over-analyzing everything to death and turning my stomach into a nest of writhing hornets?

Knowing that I will not concoct any sort of feasible answer to that question in the next few minutes, I do what I can to shake my attention back to the present, only to find that my sister appears to have caught on to my distraction. With a faint grimace, I turn back to the window, though I can already hear the tell-tale sounds of her sliding her history book to the side in favor of getting up to join me. In mere moments, I can feel her arm brushing against my own, the gentle bump she gives me with her elbow provoking a reluctant smile as we both look down on the yard below. And although I know that even this brief camaraderie cannot last forever, I force myself to enjoy it, regardless, my elbow returning the bump that Spencer has given me before I risk looking at her head-on once more.

Even though neither of us has said a word, it is abundantly clear to me that we will stick together, no matter what.

…

_(July 5, 2009)_

_"You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were avoiding me," Jason teases, his words startling me as I enter the den, as I had believed myself to be alone in the lower level of the DiLaurentis' home, "Which would hurt. Again, if I didn't know any better—"_

_"I'm not—I'm not avoiding you, Jason."_

_"Then why the hell are you looking back at the door every ten seconds like you want someone to save you from the Loch Ness Monster?"_

_"I—Jason—" I stammer, watching helplessly as he moves towards me, removing his hands from his pants pockets so that he can reach for one of mine to pull me towards him, instead, "I didn't think I was looking every ten seconds."_

_"Fine. Every fifteen. But you're not changing the subject that easily," Jason says, using his other hand to brush a stray lock of dark hair behind my ear, the contact causing me to shiver and step just a bit closer in spite of my desire to avoid it, "What's wrong?"_

_"It's complicated."_

_"Have you seen my life? I'd say I'm pretty damn familiar with complicated."_

_"That doesn't mean I can't want to avoid piling any more complicated on top of what you've already got," I counter, the futile hope that my remark will sway him in any way dying out rather quickly as I take note of the sudden seriousness that has become so apparent in his gaze._

_"You don't have to protect me, Ava."_

_"And you don't have to protect me."_

_"Yeah, I actually think I do," Jason persists, tracing his fingertip along the contour of my jawline, until he can place it beneath my chin to tilt my head back just enough so I am looking at him head-on, "You seem to have a knack for trouble."_

_"I do not!"_

_"You do. But before you get all upset on me, it's actually one of the things I like the most about you."_

_"Oh really," I muse, a smile turning the corner of my mouth upwards in spite of my obvious uncertainty, while the sensation of Jason's hand detaching itself from mine so that he can loop an arm around my waist to pull me against his chest has a flush rising to my cheeks, "You seem fairly confident that I'll just take that answer at face value."_

_"I know you pretty well, Ava. I think confidence comes as a part of my job description."_

_"Good to know."_

_"So are you going to tell me what's going on? Or am I going to have to drag it out of you with torture?"_

_"Torture?" I murmur, my words coming out muffled against Jason's chest as I try, and fail, to utterly suppress the vague sense of horror that spreads through me at the thought of confessing even a portion of what Ali and I discussed the evening prior. I want to be forthcoming. I want to tell Jason the truth, and get this unbearable weight off of my chest so badly that it physically hurts. But no matter how much I may yearn to give him the information that he so clearly wishes to know, I find that I am forcing myself to remain silent despite that desire, my tongue darting out to wet my lips for just a moment before I am pulling away from Jason's chest in favor of tilting my head back to look at him directly._

_"I'm just—this whole thing with Toby—I guess I'm just a little bit scared."_

_There. That is not a complete lie…_

_"He's not going to touch you, Ava. He was taken away by the police."_

_"I know. I know. It's just—it's not like I actually knew the guy, but I never would have thought he was capable of—of this."_

_"No one ever suspects someone is capable of what Toby did. At least no one who doesn't build their life on paranoia," Jason assures me, the palm of his hand running in soothing circles on my back, and consequently prompting me to return to my former position with my head braced against his chest. I know that I cannot let him know the truth. Not all of it, anyway, no matter how much the guilt of lying to him might gnaw at my insides like a prisoner trying to break free from their cell. And although I have absolutely no right to give in to the desire for comfort, particularly as I am poignantly aware of the fact that if Jason did have any inkling of what it is I am truly keeping secret, he would likely be demonstrating an entirely different reaction than he is right now, I find myself doing so, regardless, the sensation of Jason's arms tightening around me causing a lump to form in my throat as I wet my lips once again and attempt to speak around it._

_"Jason, he—she's his sister!"_

_"I know. I know she is," He acknowledges, the brief pause between those words and the ones that follow them giving him time enough to place his lips against my hair, and consequently evoking still more guilt to rise within me until my chest all but burns with it as though I am being actively deprived of the oxygen I need to breathe, "But he's gone, now. And nothing is going to touch you like what he did to Jenna."_

_"Well it would be kind of difficult for anyone to do that to me, seeing as I don't have a brother—"_

_"Come on, Ava, you know what I mean."_

_"Yeah. Yeah, I think I do," I admit, my own hold on Jason's waist tightening infinitesimally as though I hope that will save me from my own guilty conscience, "But like I said, you—"_

_"I do have to protect you. I do, and I will."_

_"Jason—"_

_"You can stop trying to talk me out of it, Ava. It's not going to work," Jason interrupts, the ferocity in his tone tempered, at least a bit, by the way he presses me against him as though determined not to let me go. Vaguely, I am reminded of something I read in one of my textbooks, detailing deep pressure stimulation, and its benefits when relieving a panic attack. And although I know I am not exactly near that particular level of anxiety, I am unable to deny the awareness that Jason's embrace is soothing, regardless, a soft sigh escaping before I am glancing up at him once again and forcing a faint smile to my lips before I reply._

_"I suppose I should be thanking you for that."_

_"Yeah, I kind of think you should."_

_"And how am I going to manage that, I wonder?" I ask, stepping back as I feel Jason's arms remove themselves from around my waist so that one of his hands might come to rest against my cheek, instead._

_"I'm sure you'll think of something."_

_Determined to use this apparent distraction as a method to steer our conversation away from what transpired between Ali and I the night before, I settle for sliding my own arms away from Jason's waist, until my hands are resting, palms flat, upon his chest, instinct prompting me to lean up on tiptoe so that I can brush my lips against his own._

_As I might have predicted, even one kiss effectively stills the anxiousness that has taken root in my gut, thus giving me leave to simply live in the moment as I snake my arms up Jason's chest until they are capable of winding around his neck…_

…

The harsh sound of a knocking on my bedroom door startles me awake with a brutal efficiency, my eyes squinting against the suddenly blinding light of my desk lamp as I realize I must have fallen asleep while making last minute revisions to my history notes. For a moment, I am entirely disoriented, aware that I am in my own bedroom, of course, but cognoscente of little else. But before I can fully allow that apparent daze to disconcert me, I force myself to my feet, the soft sounds of my padding to the bedroom door rising in stark contrast to yet another knock upon its surface. In seconds, I am throwing it open, my eyes only widening as I realize Spencer is the person on the other side, her expression haggard as she pushes past me and throws herself down upon my bed.

And just like that, all of my own problems fall away, my brow furrowing as I shut the door to my bedroom once again, and hurry towards the bed to sit beside my sister's prone frame.

"Spence? What the hell is—"

"I kissed him."

"Wait—wait, you _what_? Kissed who?"

"Wren. I kissed _Wren_," Spencer moans, her voice muffled by my bedspread, though that does not relieve me of the sudden jolt of dread that her words inspire, "Or—or he kissed _me_—I don't know—"

"When did this happen?" I inquire, my astonishment apparent in my tone, though I know on some level that my shock is probably the very last thing my sister needs at the present moment, "Today? Or—or last night?"

"Today. After you left to do some studying on your own."

"Where?"

"In my room," Spencer confesses, lifting her head from the bedspread just enough so that she can risk a glance my way, her expression shifting just a bit as she realizes I have obviously been successful at schooling my own into something that will not betray my amazement over her confession, "He—he stopped in to ask if I needed another massage, and—"

"Wait. Stop. Rewind. _Another _massage?"

"Yeah, and—"

"When was the first one, Spencer?" I demand, scooting back just a bit farther on my bed, and crossing my legs beneath me while simultaneously folding my arms across my chest to ward off a sudden chill. In spite of myself, I found my memories wandering back to another day—another time in which my sister had confessed to kissing another one of Melissa's boyfriends—but of course, before I can find myself too distracted by such musings, I am once again pulled back to the present, this time by my sister's tremulous reply.

"The first day of school."

"Jesus—"

"It was completely platonic, Ava! Just the one time!" Spencer presses, flopping onto her back, and placing one arm over her eyes in a gesture so dramatic that I might have laughed, were the circumstances just a bit different, "But then tonight, when he was in my room, I just—"

"You couldn't resist," I supply, watching Spencer's face carefully for any sign that she has taken my assertion poorly, and finding myself more than a little bit relieved to see that she appears to have relaxed just a bit while managing a nod in confirmation. I understood the feeling, of course, though I did not know exactly how to put that feeling into words so that she could discern the depth of my comprehension first-hand. The impulsive desire to give in to something that could not possibly be wise was a thing that I had encountered time and time again with Jason DiLaurentis in years past. Hell, it was something I had experienced earlier today, though obviously those feelings were no longer returned. But although I wanted nothing more than to _tell _Spencer this, in hopes of alleviating the burden she now faced, I find myself pausing in the act, my teeth worrying a bit at my lower lip before I change course entirely, and reach out to give her arm a squeeze in much the same way as she had done for me earlier this evening.

"Spence, it's going to be okay. No one saw you, right? So aside from you and I, nobody knows."

"Since when is our life ever that easy, Ava? You _know _that our mutual friend is probably only going to wait so long before revealing that they've known all about what happened since the moment that it did."

"You really think that 'A' would have been able to see you kissing Wren? You were in your bedroom, Spencer—"

"By the window," Spencer interjects, leaning up on her elbows, and shaking her long hair out over her shoulders so that the tips spread out haphazardly on top of my bedspread, "Not exactly difficult for anyone to see, if they were in the backyard."

"Now you're starting to sound paranoid."

"It's not as though you can really blame me, given everything that's happened."

"Fair enough," I admit, frowning a bit as I allow my mind to trail back to the text I had received almost immediately after Jason's departure from the grille, and realizing that whether I want to admit it or not, my sister may just have a point. It does seem as though someone has an uncanny ability of observing our lives, as though we are nothing more than lab rats under the watchful eye of a scientist watching our behavior and documenting it for their research. In truth, I am more than a little unsettled, though I do what I can to avoid allowing Spencer to pick up on that fact in light of her current emotional state.

No matter how much I may not want to deal with this on my own, I am far less inclined to add to my sister's current anxiousness, my expression once again rearranging itself into something that I hope will only prove reassuring as I simultaneously lean back until I am reclining on the bedspread beside her, our hands seeming to reach for one another in the same precise moment before I summon the wherewithal to speak once again.

"You know I've got your back, right? No matter what happens with this? No matter who finds out?"

"I do," Spencer states, giving my hand a squeeze, and simultaneously sidling just a bit closer to me until our shoulders are barely touching, while our fingers thread together in a silent show of camaraderie and support.

"And I can promise you, Ava, there is literally no one else I would rather have in that position, when Melissa finds out about this and tries to kill me for good."

Though we share a soft laugh at the remark, and its obvious intent to diffuse the tension of the moment shared between us, I daresay neither of us would be foolish enough to pretend that the prospect of Melissa's anger if she ever did find out would be no laughing matter at all…

'A' would seem as nothing when compared to the rage of a sister scorned for what appeared to be the second time.

…

**Well hello there, darlings! And welcome to a brand new, albeit very delayed new chapter! I would like to offer my sincerest apologies, once again, for allowing this story to head to the backburner once again, especially in light of the fact that the sole reason for that occurrence is my fickle muses and their inability to remain focused on one story at a time. I do hope that you can all find it within your hearts to forgive me for the delays, because I can promise you it is not my intent to abandon this story at all!**

**As per usual, my heartfelt thanks go out to each and every one of you that has taken the time to read, follow, favorite, and review this story so far (and of course for sticking with me in spite of the apparently frequent delays in updates)! Special thanks go out to last chapter's reviewers: Hope10, Loving Liar, Princess1, Warriorqueen, Lady Bird, Guest, Guest2, and Ineveryfandom! I truly do appreciate the support, and as always, I cannot wait to hear what you think! I know this chapter was a bit of a filler—but I promise, more action will come!**

**As one final thing, before I sign off, I wanted to extend another personal thank you to Ineveryfandom for prompting me to work on this story next! I was rather taken aback by how I was almost immediately just sitting down and writing away (especially since I was anticipating not having this chapter out until later in the week). But who am I to complain, right? Inspiration is, after all, inspiration ;)**

**Until next time, dearies…**

**MOMM**


	12. Chapter 12: Truth Unfolds

The sound of a door slamming somewhere outside rather effectively jolts me from my sleep some time later, the first of the sun's rays streaming through the sheer curtains over my bedroom window causing me to squint before I am pushing the blankets back from my frame, and swinging my feet over the edge of the bed so that they can come to rest flat upon the carpet. After I take a moment to regain my equilibrium, I push myself off of the bed, and pad over to the window, one hand reaching out to move the curtain aside so that I can see into the backyard below. I would have been a liar to pretend that what I saw was anything remotely close to what I had expected, the hand that was not otherwise occupied holding the curtain back moving on instinct to cover my mouth before I am turning to head back towards my bed in stunned silence.

Wren was leaving, with a brown cardboard box in his arms overflowing with what I could only imagine were his possessions he had moved into the loft, and although I would love nothing more than to pretend I have no idea why he is departing in such a manner, I know that I will not succeed.

Melissa must have found out about what happened between her fiancé and our sister, somehow, and although I wish it could be otherwise, I know too well that the coming days are going to be far from pleasant as a result…

Knowing that staying exiled in my room, and skipping out on school to avoid these problems do not stand a chance at actually fixing them, however, I force myself to turn towards my closet to gather a shirt and pair of jeans for the day ahead, allowing instinct to take over as I gather my things for a shower in hopes that doing so will allow me to avoid thinking too hard on what this past weekend has involved. I know, on some level, that I will have to face it at some point. That running from what has happened will only make the eventual fall out that much worse than it will already be if I stand and acknowledge it head-on.

Of course, I suppose I really should not be all that surprised that I am choosing to take the easy way out, at least for now, my feet instinctively hurrying me toward the shower so that I can lose myself in the events of the day ahead like the damned coward that I am.

Too bad the coward's way out is not always that long-lived…

…

Freshly showered and dressed, with a light dusting of eyeshadow on my eyelids, and a faint smear of light pink lip gloss on my lips, I step into the kitchen and make a beeline for the coffee pot and my travel mug resting beside it. For a moment, I am so absorbed in the act of pouring the coffee and savoring the smell of the hot liquid as it wafts against my nose that I don't even realize I am not alone. But of course my small moment of paradise is short-lived, much the same as every other moment where I have found some modicum of relief over this past weekend, every nerve ending I possess exploding into awareness all at once as an unexpected voice reaches my ears from behind the island at the kitchen's center.

"Did you know?"

"God, Melissa, you scared the crap out of me!" I exclaim, tugging a hand through my hair in an effort to diffuse my nerves, while simultaneously turning on a heel with the coffee pot still clutched in my hand, only to find that she is staring me down as though she truly believes it will help her in getting information out of me about what Spencer has done, "What are—what are you talking about?"

"Did you know?" She persists, her eyes drilling a hole into my chest as I turn back towards the coffee maker for long enough to place it back on the warmer, and grab the lid to put on my travel mug before taking a seat opposite her at the island, "Did you know about Spencer and—and Wren?"

Unsure of exactly how to reply without intimating that I did have some idea of what had happened the evening prior, I remain silent for the time-being, staring down at where my hands rest, curled around the travel mug, and savoring the beginnings of the warmth I can feel seeping through the material against my palms. I know that things have never been easy with Melissa and Spencer, their near to constant arguing and sniping at one another almost making my own relationship with our older sister look cordial. But inasmuch as I know that, I am also well-aware that withholding an answer will be every bit as much a confession of Spencer's guilt as telling the truth, that realization prompting my teeth to chew at my lower lip for a moment before I summon the wherewithal to reply.

"What—what about them?"

"She _kissed _him, Ava! It's like Ian all over again!"

"How do you—how do you know that's what happened?" I inquire, aware of how Melissa's face has blanched in response, and yet finding myself still capable of praying fervently that her sudden intelligence on the matter is _not _the result of the same mysterious individual that has been harassing my friends and I since school began.

"Because I _saw _them with my own eyes! So don't even try and talk Spencer out of this, okay? It won't do you any good."

"I'm not going to try and talk Spencer out of this."

"Why not? You always have before," Melissa retorts, folding her arms across her chest, and fixing me with an expression that is so damned defiant it has me on edge in seconds, "The two of you are always taking each other's sides."

"In case you hadn't noticed, Melissa, that's what sisters are supposed to do."

"Not the way you two do it. It's like you're this exclusive little clique that won't let anyone else in."

"So what is this really about?" I demand, aware that the sudden harshness in my voice is most likely the very worst tactic I can use to talk Melissa down before Spencer enters the room herself, and yet finding that I am completely incapable of backing down in the face of this most recent accusation, "Is it about Spencer supposedly going after another one of your boyfriends, or is it about your jealousy that the two of us are closer with each other than we ever have been with you?"

"Wow. Leave it to you to avoid pulling your punches."

"You aren't pulling them either, Melissa."

"Because somehow, I knew this would be how you would react," My sister spits out, shoving herself out of the chair she had been sitting in, and slamming the cover to her laptop closed before taking a few steps closer to me, seemingly oblivious to the way in which I have visibly flinched in response, "I just lost my _fiancé_! And you're more upset over the fact that I'm not buying the 'Spencer is an angel' act you two shove down everyone's throats any chance you get! And to think, I had your back when you were with Jason—"

"Exactly how did you have my back? If I remember correctly, you were threatening to tell Mom and Dad about us if I didn't cover for you when you snuck out with Ian."

"But I never told, did I?" Melissa presses, her expression indicating that she clearly believes the simple fact of her silence on the matter far outweighs all the taunting I endured to buy it, "I kept your secret."

"And that came with a price, didn't it?"

"I'm sure they come with a price with Spencer too, Ava."

"Actually, they don't," I argue, pausing just long enough to allow myself a sip of coffee, and closing my eyes in an attempt to better allow the warmth of the liquid to give me courage, before going on, "That's the difference between you, I suppose."

"So, you're on _her _side in this—"

"I'm on the side of waiting to hear the whole story before making any judgement at all."

Aware of Melissa's obvious scoff of disbelief in response to my statement—my _lie_, more like—I force myself to avert my eyes and refocus my thoughts on the coffee mug clutched between my hands, the sound of heels clicking on the wooden paneling of the hallway directly outside of the kitchen causing my stomach to turn over as I recognize the sound as heralding my mother's approach. I know, on some level, that I should take that noise as an excuse to leave the room, and head back upstairs so that I can get ready for school, while simultaneously extracting myself from the drama that Melissa's pity party is all too likely to drum up. But before I can make any attempt at jolting myself into action to do exactly that, I find I am rooted to the spot as my mother rounds the corner and glances between where I sit, and where Melissa is now completely engrossed in her laptop at the opposite end of the island, before moving further into the kitchen, and heading towards the coffee pot herself.

"Morning, girls."

"Hey, Mom," I reply, managing a slight smile for her benefit, before allowing my glance to drift back to the doorway as Spencer appears, her face paling once she catches sight of Melissa, "I thought you'd be at work already."

"Heading there now. I had to help your father take care of a few things before he left for the office."

"Dad's already gone?"

"Yeah, he ran without me. Why didn't he just knock on my door?" Spencer asks, clearly possessing enough courage to step into the kitchen, proper, so that she can grab a muffin and her own travel mug to fill it with the last of the coffee in the pot.

"He was busy. He had to help package up some of the things that Wren left behind."

"Too bad _you _weren't one of them."

"How many times am I going to have to say it?" Spencer begins, her exasperation clearly getting the better of her, despite how I can tell that she did not come into the kitchen to start a fight. I can tell she wants to press her case—to somehow persuade Melissa that she didn't mean to bring an end to her engagement, even though we both know that tactic will never work in a million years. But before she gets the chance, our mother chooses that particular moment to step between her and Melissa, a sharp glance to both of them prompting a temporary silence so that she can step in and attempt to stop the impending argument, herself.

"Oh girls, please! I can't arbitrate on one cup of coffee!"

"Who's calling the paper to pull the announcement? It was hard enough changing my status on Facebook!"

"I'll take care of the newspaper," Our mother assures, her brow furrowing as Melissa plows on with her list of concerns, very nearly talking right over her while her attention remains glued upon her laptop screen.

"What about the engagement dinner? Do _I _have to make that call?"

"No, of course not. Just look up the number and I'll leave a message."

Sharing an eye-roll with Spencer as she moves past me with her muffin, and heads back towards the doorway, I force myself to hop down from the chair I occupy to follow after her, knowing that if I do not do so now, I will likely end up listening to more of Melissa's ranting about Wren. I am about half-way to the doorway, however, when I realize I am not about to be that lucky, the sound of my mother's voice reaching my ears and causing my feet to grind to a halt just as Spencer turns back to listen to her as well.

"Where are you two going?"

"I'm going to eat in my room."

"And I'm following her," I add, managing a faint grin before attempting to head back towards the door, only to find that my momentum is brought to a screeching halt once again as my proposition meets an all too predictable rebuttal.

"Oh no you don't. I just dry-cleaned your bedspread. Sit at the table."

"I don't think I'm welcome."

"That's never stopped you before—"

"I did not _invite_ your fiancé to kiss me, Melissa. For the last time, _he _made the move on _me_," Spencer hisses, the vehemence in her tone causing me to wince while I simultaneously realize that Melissa already has a retort ready and waiting in the wings.

"Oh right, and you just sat there like a throw pillow, with your tongue down his throat!"

"Look. I get it. You're upset. But don't blame it all on me! Maybe you should be asking yourself why Wren felt the need to—"

I can tell that Spencer regrets her words almost as soon as they have left her mouth, her expression clearly showing how horrified she is beneath the weight of not only Melissa's enraged stare, but the shock on my face, as well. And although I am well aware that the damage is already done, I am not able to warn Spencer of that reality in time to stop her from putting her foot in her mouth just a bit more, another wince stealing across my features as she attempts to make amends, no matter how futile that desire may be.

"I'm sorry, okay? I'm not perfect. But I don't want to be accused of something I didn't do."

"Oh stop, please, both of you! Go get dressed for school. You can take your muffin to go."

Aware that Spencer is about to protest these orders, I shake my head as subtly as I can while simultaneously ensuring that she does not miss the gesture, one hand darting out to nudge against her shoulder until she is turned to face the doorway, and I can push her through it before she gets herself into any further trouble. I understand her frustration, particularly as I had just endured my own argument with Melissa immediately prior to her arrival. But no matter how much I may empathize with her situation, I am not about to allow that feeling to subject us both to more of the unpleasantness we have just endured, my head shaking once again as Spencer turns toward me as though she wants to press her case to _me_ as well.

"Go, Spence. We're going to be late for school."

"But—"

"No buts, sis," I insist, squeezing her shoulder before turning her back to face the stairs, and following closely behind her to ensure that she begins the trek back to her bedroom to get ready for school, "We can vent about this in the car on the way in."

_Lord knows we will both need it_…

…

"So—how'd you do?"

"On what?"

"Your history test, Ava, what else?" Hanna explains, shaking her head at my obviously bemused expression, and leaning against the locker beside me with her arms folded across her chest, "I don't know why I'm asking—you probably aced it, like always—"

"You sure you're not thinking about Spencer, Han?" I retort, laughing a bit as I stow the books I had needed for the first few classes of the day in my locker, before extracting the ones I will need later on, "She's the great test taker in the family, not me."

"And yet you two are in almost every single class together. Couldn't get there, if you weren't smart."

"Maybe I've been cheating off of her this entire time."

"Yeah. And I'm going to be class valedictorian."

"Hey, anything is possible."

"Yeah. Not that," Hanna argues, rolling her eyes at my obviously determined expression, and shoving herself away from the locker as I shut my own, and turn to head towards my next class, "What's up with Spencer? She seemed kind of twitchy this morning before class."

"Oh she's—that was just test anxiety," I stammer, silently cursing myself for the way in which my voice seems to tremble, and causes Hanna's brow to lift up in response no matter what I may have done to avoid that very outcome, "You know how she gets when she thinks she's going to fail an exam."

"Somehow I don't think that's all she was worried about."

"It's all I'm aware of, at any rate," I persist, balancing my books in my arms and adjusting the strap of my purse on my shoulder before glancing at Hanna directly, only to find that she is scrutinizing my features as though determined that my evasion will betray itself with a flashing neon sign, "Honestly, I've given up trying to predict her level of anxiety at any given moment. Life's a lot easier that way."

"Maybe I should try and hook her up with some of my mom's Valium."

"If you do that for her, you'd better hook me up too, Han."

"I can make it work."

Sharing a laugh with my friend over her ever-ready comeback, I find it surprisingly easy to continue down the hall towards our shared English class, the sudden sensation of Hanna's arm looping through my own bringing a faint grin to my lips while we weave through the crowds of other students milling about to get to their own classes. For a moment, I can almost forget the events of this morning, the memory of Melissa's hostility and our mother's weariness over what must appear to her to be our near to constant quibbling, fading to the back of my mind as I choose instead to focus upon Hanna's presence at my side. No matter what we have all been through in the past year, alone, I find that I am suddenly falling prey to an unexpected sense of reassurance, even in the wake of the very real threat still presented by our unknown text-stalker. Together, we had survived Alison—we had survived the Jenna thing. And no matter how I may try to convince myself that such a feeling is foolish, I do what I can to resist that instinctive urge, my attention once again turning towards Hanna as I realize she has suddenly erupted into a wide grin, and is now practically tugging me towards Mr. Fitz's classroom.

I suppose, in retrospect, I ought to have known the only thing that could make her smile like that would have been Sean, and where he was, Noel Kahn was not far behind…

While Hanna extricates herself from the hold my arm has on her own, and moves to embrace her boyfriend, I find myself suddenly engrossed in the frayed corner of my English textbook, my fingernail picking at the material as though I truly believe that it will protect me from any sort of interaction with the person who singlehandedly blew apart my attempt at testing the waters with Jason this past weekend. Of course, the act does not work, despite how I caught myself half-hoping that it would, just this once. And before I am fully prepared for it, I find that my attention is shifting from the book clutched in my arms to Noel, himself, my heart stuttering in my chest as I realize he is, as usual, wearing that predictable smirk that means he has something up his sleeve.

"Hey, Aviator."

"Noel—" I reply, somewhat pleased that my tone indicates nothing but a mild interest, no matter how childish that fact may be.

"You never texted me the other night," He pouts, seemingly oblivious to my attempt at appearing disinterested as he leans against a nearby locker, both hands tucked part-way inside his pants pockets, "I was hoping you would've."

"I was studying, like I said. Not all of us can sail through History by just reading the text once, you know."

"If any of us could, I would've thought it'd be you, Ava."

"Yeah? Think again," I quip, lifting the hand that is not otherwise occupied holding my textbooks to brush some hair back over my shoulder, my brow furrowing just a bit as I realize Noel has watched the act with far more interest than I believe it truly warrants, "History has never been one of my strong suits."

"What about partying?"

"What?"

"I said what about partying?" Noel repeats, his grin only broadening as he takes in my bewildered expression, and risks a step closer towards me as though what he says next is completely confidential, "My parents are going out of town this weekend."

"Yeah?"

"And you know what that means—"

"I do?" I inquire, hoping that feigning ignorance will be enough to persuade Noel to back off, even though I am well aware that desire is a foolish one, to say the least, "That's news to me."

"Means the party of the year is going down this weekend, and I think you should come. With me."

"Really. What makes you say that?"

"The fact that I know you're upset with me for what happened this weekend," Noel explains, reaching forward to brush a stray lock of hair behind my ear, and clearly taking the shiver I give in response as encouragement to elaborate further, "And if you let me show you a good time at my party, I'm pretty sure I can make it up to you."

"You seem pretty confident—" I state, glancing back at where Hanna and Sean are still engrossed in their own conversation, and frowning a bit as I realize she is too preoccupied to come to my rescue, now, "How do you know I'll even say yes?"

"Because, Ava, I know you. And I know you won't say no to a good time once you really think about it."

"Wow. Who knew I was that easy to read?"

"It isn't a bad thing," Noel assures, shifting so that his back rests against the lockers beside us, and reaching for my arm as I attempt to take a step back so that his arm cannot brush against my torso, "Come on, Aviator. Give me one more chance. I _promise _you won't regret it."

The sound of the warning bell that indicates we only have two more minutes to get to class rings through the halls, and causes me to jump just a bit in response before I have a chance to reply, the sight of Hanna and Sean sharing one final hug catching my peripheral vision, and prompting me to stand up a bit straighter in hopes that the sudden movement will dislodge Noel's fingers from their place around my wrist. In truth, I am halfway tempted to accept his offer, if for no other reason than to give myself something to think about besides my failed outing with Jason, and the tension that I know will continue to rear its ugly head between Melissa and Spencer as the week goes on. But somehow, I find that I am equally as intrigued by the prospect of making Noel work for my consent for just a bit longer, if for no other reason than to get back at him for what he did this past weekend, my lips turning up in a faint smile as I manage a faint shrug before I reply.

"I'll think about it. How's that?"

"Anything I can do to help you along?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I think so," I begin, removing my wrist from Noel's hold, and beginning the act of walking around him to get to the doorway to Mr. Fitz's classroom, only to come to a stop at his side so that I can rise up on my tiptoes and whisper in his ear.

"Win that football game on Thursday and we may just have ourselves a deal."

If the stunned expression stealing over his features is any indication, my words have had the desired effect, and although a part of me knows it is foolish to taunt him, I cannot help but feel some level of satisfaction that my efforts have succeeded.

Despite my apprehension over his determination to spend more time together, I think I might have at least managed to hold him off for now…

…

**Well hello there, my darlings! And welcome to another new chapter! I have to admit, this one literally came at me out of nowhere, since I hadn't planned on updating again until sometime closer to Thanksgiving when I'm off work again. But I ended up opening a document to at least start the chapter last night and then before I knew it, it seemed to have written itself. With that said, I do hope that it is every bit as enjoyable as the other chapters preceding it have been…and like usual, I cannot wait to see what you think!**

**Special thanks go out to each and every one of you that have taken the time to read, follow, favorite, and review this story thus far (Ineveryfandom, Hope10, Princess1, Loving Liar, Warriorqueen, Lady Bird, Emmetluver2010, and BloodRaven46, that means you)! I truly do appreciate the support, and I can only hope that you like this chapter every bit as much as you have enjoyed the others!**

**Until next time, angels!**

**MOMM**


	13. Chapter 13: Dance With The Devil

"Wow. That's—that's bold, Ava," Aria muses, one brow quirking in obvious amusement as she regards me for a moment, her apple completely forgotten in favor of my apparent interrogation, "What made you decide to go for it?"

"I didn't _go for _anything, per se—"

"That's not what it looks like from here."

"Well it's what it is. I swear," I persist, silently cursing how I can feel my cheeks flushing, no matter how fiercely I wish to avoid that precise reaction, "I just—he's always using these little taunts and innuendos with me, so I figured I'd try and return the favor."

"I think maybe you did that and more, sis."

"Oh god, not you too."

"Hey. Just calling them as I see them," Spencer states, taking her usual place beside me at our lunch table, and nudging me affectionately with her shoulder before setting down her tray, "What is it that you did, and more, anyway?"

"She told Noel Kahn that she'd go to his party this weekend."

"Isn't everyone going to that party?"

"Not everyone is going _with _Noel," Aria counters, a satisfied smile crossing her features as she takes in my sister's wide-eyed expression, and turns back to face me before going on, "See? Told you it was a big deal."

"Technically, I'm not one hundred percent sure I'm going with him yet, either," I press, aware of the skeptical look that has taken over both Spencer and Aria's features almost in tandem, and yet choosing to persist in the act of defending my statement, regardless, "I—I told him he had to win Thursday's football game, first, before I'd consider it."

"Wow."

"Why 'wow', Spence?"

"I just—I guess I never saw this coming, that's all."

"Well I'm happy I can still surprise _somebody_," I quip, rolling my eyes in spite of the fact that my cheeks are flushing in response to the seemingly relentless teasing of my friends, and my sister as well, "But seriously, guys. This is not anything to get all worked up over."

"No? Tell that to Noel Kahn."

"What?"

"Oh come _on_, Ava, you can't tell me you haven't noticed that he's into you," Hanna states, leaning across the table to reach for my arm, and giving it a conspiratorial squeeze as though she thinks that will truly get me to give in to her claim without a fight, "He's been all over you lately, following you like some sort of little puppy."

"I don't think he's been like a lost puppy, Han—"

"Keep telling yourself that. It's definitely what he's doing."

I don't know what I can say to circumvent what Hanna is telling me, and so I simply choose to remain silent, my attention turning to my barely-touched plate as I pick at a piece of my sandwich where the bread has started to come apart. Unbidden, my mind has trailed back to my foolhardy lunch with Jason, as though I think that by remembering such a thing, I can distance myself from the implications of what I am about to do. But of course as soon as I allow myself the brief reprieve of a smile at the memory of the small amount of genuine laughter we were able to share, I find myself thinking of how Noel's interruption threw it all awry, a frown marring my brow as I come to the determination that perhaps Hanna is not as far off the mark as I wish to believe.

"Do you—do you even like him like that?" Emily asks, finally breaking her silence, though her expression has not changed from the concerned look that she has worn since we started this conversation.

"Honestly, Em? I have no idea."

"Well I think you should know if you like him or not, before committing to anything too serious," Emily cautions, something in her words causing me to look at her a little more closely, despite the fact that at least at the moment, I cannot find a clear indication of why her remark troubles me. It almost seems as though she is speaking more about herself, than about my situation directly, though I do not have the nerve to ask her about it while we are still surrounded by everyone else. But before I can find it within myself to even manage to reply to her statement itself, the bell signaling our need to return to class breaks into the silence at our little table, causing me to jump, and prompting an expression of curiosity to spread across my sister's face for only a moment before she stands, and shoulders her bag before she speaks.

"Ready for Trig?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," I reply, scooting back in my chair, and picking up my lunch tray so that I can dump its contents in the trash so that I can get to class, "You sensing a pop quiz today, or something?"

"No—I just wanted to get a head start on reading the material for today."

"Do you ever turn your obsession with school off, Spence?"

"Nope," My sister quips, sending me a half smile as she waits for me to deposit my tray along with the other used ones on the table beside the door, while the rest of our group follows along behind us, "And you wouldn't have me any other way."

"You sure about that?" I tease, allowing her to loop her arm through mine while we exit the cafeteria and head out into the hallway beyond.

"Absolutely. And don't even bother denying that you aren't, too, because I'll know that you're lying."

Somehow, even in spite of the lingering sense of doubt that I am feeling at the prospect of what Noel may take from my decision to go or not go to the party this weekend _with _him, my sister's words sooth me, at least for the moment, a hesitant smile coming to my lips as I allow her to lead me down the hall, and towards our next class. And whether she ever realizes it or not, I appreciate that simple fact more than she could ever know.

…

Later that week, after school is finally, and in my opinion, mercifully, done, I find myself in the dance studio that is situated just off of the main hall that houses the band and choir rooms, and the auditorium, relieved that I appear to have the place to myself. Of course, I don't mind the company of the other girls that share the class with me, particularly as more often than not, we work so well together that it is almost like we are simply one person, after all. But something about being able to work alone is far more intriguing at the current moment than practicing with a group, my body seeming to relax of its own accord as I pad over to the cd player and allow it to sift through the disks until it finds the back ground music for the class' usual warm up routine.

Instinct takes over at that point, and I am able to go through the motions of beginning to move, muscle memory seeming to allow me to simply give myself over to the movements inspired by the music, rather than thinking about every step before I make it. In next to no time at all, it is as though every single worry I have ever possessed has left me, only to be replaced by a strange sense of peace. And as cliché as it sounds, I find that I am almost a new person, or as close to it as I can be, without the weight of the mystery texts, and what the hell I am going to do about Jason and Noel hanging over my head.

For a while, I am able to just be me and that helps more than almost anything else when it comes to allowing me to decompress.

As the music changes to the first of our prospective routines for our upcoming recital, I begin to feel the slight sting in my muscles that come from stretching them out, a faint smile tugging at my mouth in response to the familiar feeling, and the comfort that it provides. Since the routine is still so new to my class as a whole, I still stumble here and there, though that seems to be happening far less than it has been before. But of course, almost as soon as I settle into the rhythm of the movements, I am jolted out of my reverie by the sudden appearance of an unfamiliar figure standing in the far corner of the room, my feet tripping over one another such that I am forced to throw a hand out against one of the bars on the perimeter of the room to catch myself before I fall.

"No need to stop on my account," The intruder says, stepping forward so that he comes to rest beneath one of the dome lights that are interspersed on the ceiling, and thus giving me a chance at recognizing him, though I wish with all that I have that I do not, "You look pretty good."

"Thanks," I dead-pan, subconsciously folding my arms across my chest as I realize my newfound companion as I realize he is allowing his gaze to roam over my body as though he has any right to do so in the first place, "I didn't realize detectives made a point of watching dance classes."

"They do when the girl involved in them is at the center of a murder investigation."

"I've already told you I don't remember anything else about the night of Alison's disappearance—"

"And I think that might just be something you're saying to protect yourself," Wilden persists, stepping just a bit closer towards me, despite the fact that I almost automatically take an instinctive step back when he does, "Survival instinct, and all that."

"Or it's just me telling the truth."

"So, if I were to ask you if you remembered the last conversation you had with Alison that night—"

"I would tell you I had no idea what we talked about," I finish for him, praying to whatever god is out there that my voice will not crack, and betray my nerves, "Just like I told you before."

"And I would say I think you're lying."

"I suppose you're entitled to that opinion."

"I'm entitled to it because I'm right," Wilden claims, stepping around me so that he can turn the music off at its source, and causing me to shiver as the act of him passing me causes the fabric of his shirt to brush against my bare arm, "You don't just forget something like that, Miss Hastings. In fact, if it's the last night that you see one of your best friends, it might be something you remember for the rest of your life."

"Believe me, I wish I could remember."

"You might have to work a bit harder to convince me of that."

"How on earth am I supposed to do that?" I demand, frustration getting the better of good sense, and causing me to whirl to face him, my arms dropping to my sides despite the fact that I am still very much aware of how his gaze continues to flick over my frame, "Please—enlighten me."

"If I told you that, it would take away all the fun."

"Is that what this is to you? Fun?"

"Something like that," Wilden replies, a half-smile tugging at one corner of his mouth as he leans against the table housing the cd player, and folds both arms across his chest before speaking further, "But what I'm more interested in knowing is how long you think hiding from the truth can protect you."

"I'm not hiding from anything."

"Another lie. Try again."

"I'm not," I insist, turning from my would-be interrogator and heading towards the side of the room where my bag sits, where I tossed it haphazardly against the wall earlier on, "Cross my heart, and hope to die."

"Clever. But I'm still not buying it."

"Will you ever? No matter what I say, or keep to myself?"

"Probably not. But I can help you if you decide to be honest with me," The detective states, clearly endeavoring to sway me to his side with easy smiles, and promises that my gut tells me he has no intention to keep, "All you have to do is trust me."

"And you'll—what? Make all of this go away?"

"If I can, yes."

"Only if you can," I muse, wincing as I come to the belated realization that in response to my aggravation and nerves, my fingers have curled into a fist such that my nails are now digging half-crescent shapes into the skin of my palm, "And if you can't?"

"We'll talk about that if it comes up."

"Except that I don't really feel comfortable giving up whatever I may or may not eventually remember if I have no guarantee it won't turn around to bite me."

"And I'm not entirely sure I can trust a girl who seems so quick to mistrust everyone she meets. You're too young to have so many perceived enemies, Ava—"

"What makes you think I have enemies?"

"It's written all over your face," Wilden asserts, every ounce of self-assurance that he seems to possess making itself known in his expression—his posture—his words—and consequently causing a shiver to race down my spine in response as he shoves himself away from the table top, and closes the distance between us once again until he stands directly before me so that I am forced to tilt my head back to look him in the eye, "Just because your little friends can't see it doesn't mean I can't."

"My friends have nothing to do with this."

"They have _everything _to do with this. Do you really think that they'll still keep you around if they learn whatever it is you're trying so hard to hide?"

"They will," I begin, though this time I am unsuccessful at keeping the tremor out of my voice, no matter how much I hate the fact that such a thing gives Wilden even more of a reason to look satisfied than he had before, "They have my back every bit as much as I have theirs."

"And does Jason? Have your back, I mean," Wilden inquires, his half-smile turning into a complete grin as he registers the obvious flinch I give in response to his remark, before I can stand a chance at passing it off as something else. I am not honestly sure how he knows about Jason—about any bit of my relationship with him, when I had done so much to keep it a secret. But before I am able to even begin to concoct an attempt at a reply that might make my apparent shock less pleasurable for him, I find that he is side-stepping around me and heading towards the door, only to turn back just as he reaches the threshold of the door, so that he can address me one last time before he departs.

"Call me crazy, Miss Hastings, but I'm not sure he'd be so enamored with you if he thought you were the one who murdered his sister, and then lied to him, to boot."

Whether I want to admit it or not, Wilden has just won this round, and I am not entirely certain that I ever stood a chance, even at the start…

…

Some hours later, hidden away in my room, and abundantly grateful that I have the house to myself, at least for the moment, I find myself reclining on my back atop my bed, my eyes riveted upon the ceiling as though seeking an answer in the paint that covers it. Naturally, I find nothing, though that does not stop me from trying, regardless. And although I know that I would be far better served by attempting to make some headway in the mountain of homework that my classes appear to have piled on today, if for no other reason than to avoid being stuck with the full brunt of it over the upcoming weekend, I find that I am incapable of doing anything save for remaining motionless upon my bed, my fingers toying idly with the fringe of the bedspread in hopes that the mindless action will eventually lull me to sleep.

No matter how hard I try, however, I cannot seem to force Wilden's words—or rather, his threats—from my mind, a shaky sigh escaping as I relinquish my position on my bed for hauling myself into a seated pose, instead, one hand lifting to massage my temple as a dull throb takes root there as though it was born to do it, and will not let go now that it has found its place.

Almost as soon as I am seated upright, however, I find that I am distracted from my internal musings, such as they are, by the sound of my phone vibrating on top of my desk, a furrow forming between my brows as I force myself off of the bed so that I can see who on earth is trying to contact me, now.

_Noel_…

In the wake of the jolt of apprehension that steals through me as soon as I realize who it is that clearly wants to speak with me, if the way in which my phone keeps buzzing even in spite of the way that I allowed the first attempt at a call to go straight to voicemail. But regardless of how much I may wish for him to simply give up after that, I know that Noel never will, and so I find that I am answering the call the next time it rings through, resignation weighing heavily in my tone though I do put forth at least half an effort to prevent it.

"Hey there, Aviator—"

"Noel."

"Whatcha doing?"

"Attempting to study," I fib, hoping that the lie will sound more believable since he cannot see my face at the moment, while I simultaneously pad back towards my bed and perch upon its edge, "Why?"

"Because I have to tell you something. And I want to make sure I have your full attention," Noel responds, something in his tone causing me to feel a sensation not unlike a vice tightening its hold upon my chest, and prompting me to remain silent so that he will elaborate further, after only a miniscule beat of silence, "Do I have it?"

"You do."

"Good. Then you won't miss it when I tell you that you're going to have to make due on your promise."

"What promise?" I inquire, momentarily baffled as I try in vain to sift through my memories, and find that I am completely incapable of doing so, given that my mind is still rather fervently rooted in the memory of my encounter in the dance studio earlier this afternoon.

"The one you made when you said if I won the football game, you'd come to my party with me."

"And you—you won?" I stammer, dragging a hand through my hair, and frowning as I come to the realization that I have been so caught up in my own troubles, of late, that it has not even dawned on me that today is, in fact, Thursday.

"Damn straight I won."

"Congratulations."

"I think you need to do a bit better than that, Ava. A promise is a promise, after all."

"I guess it is—"

"So, you'll come with me? As my date?" Noel persists, something in the way he says the word 'date' sending a shiver down my spine, and prompting me to chew for a moment on my lower lip before deciding upon my reply.

"A promise is a promise."

"Great! I'll talk to you tomorrow at school about the details."

"Sounds good to me," I manage, hoping beyond hope that my voice will not betray my misgivings, and that I can somehow come up with a way to get Noel off the phone before I am forced into any more detail on something I am still not even sure that I want, "But I have—I have a lot of homework, so—"

"So, I should let you go."

"Something like that, yeah."

"Well I'll only do that as long as you make sure you won't allow 'homework' to ruin our fun this weekend," Noel bargains, a smile apparent in his tone, though it does nothing to improve my own mood, or provide me any reassurance about what is to come, "I'm not letting you back out on this one, Aviator."

"Trust me, Noel. I don't intend to."

Like it or not, it would seem I have just made a deal with the devil, himself…

…

**Hello, my angels! And welcome (finally) to a brand new chapter! Once again, I feel I have to thank you for continuing to have patience with me, because I am definitely not blind to how sporadic my updates are for this story. All that I can say is that I am sincerely sorry if it ever seems like I have abandoned it, and you all, as well, by extension. That is certainly not my intent! And I am nowhere near being finished with this tale!**

**As always, my heartfelt thanks go to each and every one of you that has taken the time to read, follow, favorite, and review this story thus far (and special thanks to last chapter's reviewers: Ineveryfandom, Hope10, Princess1, ViciousGingerLady, Loving Liar, Warriorqueen, Lady Bird, and my two guests! I truly do appreciate all of your support, and of course I cannot wait to hear what you think of this chapter!**

**Until next time, my loves…**

**MOMM**

**PS—I've already got some ideas floating around in the ole' brain regarding the next chapter, so the hope is it won't take so long before it's posted! Fingers crossed, because I am eager to let the angst continue!**


	14. Chapter 14: Highway to Hell

"So—you're doing it."

"I don't think I have much of a choice, Spence," I reply, tossing yet another shirt that I have decided will look absolutely horrid in the context of Noel's party on top of the bed, and snorting in amusement as Spencer flinches while the material sails past her cheek, "I kind of made a big deal out of going with him if he won the football game."

"Yeah, but _he _didn't win it all by himself, did he?"

"I don't think that kind of loophole is going to work, here."

"Can't blame a girl for trying," Spencer says, a small groan escaping her before she can stop it, and causing me to turn away from the mirror for a moment to regard her more closely. In truth, she has been nearly silent for the entire evening, choosing to stare at the screen of her laptop while her fingers work angrily at the keyboard instead of participating in much of a conversation despite the fact that it is now almost eleven o'clock at night, and we both would be better suited by relaxing for a bit, rather than remaining mired in homework. But regardless of that reality, we both seem to be a bit too focused on our current endeavors to give up now—something that, curiously enough, steels my resolve as I move to perch on the edge of the bed so that I can reach out to place my hand on my sister's arm to secure her attention before I speak.

"Hey—are you okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because you've been glued to that computer ever since we got home from school, and you're still not looking at me now."

"I'm glued to my computer because I haven't even started that Russian History essay, and that's just the tip of the iceberg in terms of the homework situation."

"That's never stopped you from talking my ear off, before," I persist, stifling my relief that such a remark has Spencer finally, _finally _looking at me, instead of at her computer screen, and glancing down at where my hand still rests upon her arm for a moment before going on, "What's going on?"

"Oh, the usual," Spencer begins, closing her laptop, and shoving it half-heartedly away from her before flopping onto her back and flinging an arm across her eyes to elaborate further, "Melissa hates me, Mom hates me, Dad probably hates me too, and my worrying about all of that is making it absolutely _impossible _for me to make any headway on this paper—"

"Forget the paper, Spence. I'm more concerned about your feelings than your homework."

"My feelings are an absolute mess."

"How about you try to tell me about them, anyway."

I am not surprised when my insistence appears to provoke a sigh of exasperation from Spencer, both her hands dragging through already tousled hair before she looks at me with an expression that has a frown almost immediately creeping across my face. It's rare for me to see her like this—so completely lost and dejected, as compared to her usual aura of confidence used to mask the underlying stress she always experiences at baseline. And although I know that she is not likely to respond well to being poked and prodded, so to speak, I cannot help but want to persist in my line of questioning, regardless.

If she hates me for that, I suppose I'll just have to handle it as it comes.

"Spence, come on—you have to give me _something_, here."

"This isn't the first time I've come between Melissa and one of her boyfriends," Spencer states, her tone nothing short of dejected, despite the reassuring squeeze I attempt to give her shoulder in response, "You know how she is, Ava. She's never going to let me forget it."

"And you know I've got your back if she decides to be a pain in the ass, right?"

"Ava—"

"I'm serious, Spencer," I interject, frowning as my sister seems to flinch in response to my interruption, though I press on, regardless, "If she wants to have a go at you, she's going to have to go through me."

"What about Mom and Dad?"

"They'll have to go through me, too."

"You're sure about that?" Spencer inquires, one brow lifting as though she truly believes she has reason to doubt me, "Because they can be pretty persistent."

"I don't care."

"It'll be three on two—"

"And I still don't care."

"Will you be saying the same thing when they start coming down on you, too?"

"Absolutely," I confirm, regarding Spencer with a look that all but dares her to disagree, while simultaneously reaching forward to brush a stray lock of hair away from her face before she has the chance to do it herself, "How many times have you done the same for me?"

"A fair few," Spencer replies, finally giving me a faint smile, while simultaneously reaching for my hand so that she can give it a squeeze before going on, "But I wish we could have moved into the barn even more so, now."

"You and me both, Spence. You and me both," I agree, turning back to the closet in hopes of finally finding a suitable outfit for Noel's party this weekend, and finding myself more than a little pleased at the realization that Spencer appears to have abandoned her laptop in favor of helping me to make a choice. For now, at least, my attempts at providing reassurance seem to have worked, if the way that Spencer gently bumps my shoulder so that she can get past me and have access to the closet, herself is any indication. And although I would be a liar if I were to pretend I was not concerned over the potential repercussions of my sister's actions as far as they relate to kissing Wren, I do what I can to force myself to focus on the simple pleasure of the moment, my expression rather quickly turning incredulous as I take note of the outfit Spencer has just pulled from the back of the closet.

If the expression on her face is any indication, I will be wearing this ridiculously low-cut dress to the party whether I truly want to, or not…

…...

True to form, Saturday evening finds me standing before the mirror in my bedroom, clad in the dress that Spencer had selected for me the evening prior, my hands tugging at the hem of the skirt in an effort to pull it down just a bit despite the fact that I am ninety-nine percent certain the act will be futile. If I remember correctly, it was a hand me down from Melissa, after her party days in college were through—but no matter the dress' origin, I cannot persuade myself to feel entirely comfortable in it, a frown pursing my lips as I tug at the material once again while Spencer steps up behind me and places both hands on my shoulders.

"Stop pulling at it, Ava. You look great."

"I look like someone who's trying too hard," I correct, chewing at my lower lip for a moment before turning away from the mirror, and heading back to my dresser to grab a hair tie so that I can get the weight of my hair away from my neck, "Why can't I just do the t-shirt and jeans thing like always?"

"Because this time we both know it's a date," Spencer says, following me to the dresser, and snatching the hair tie away from me so that she can pull my hair into a lazy up-do herself, "And besides, I think we both know you deserve it."

"And you don't?"

"Ava, if I go to Noel's party looking like this, Melissa and our parents will lose their mind."

Unable to resist the urge to laugh at that remark, I settle instead for allowing my amusement free reign, the fact that Spencer is laughing as well giving me some relief that my reaction is not that far out of place. After she has settled my unruly hair in the style she envisions, she turns her attention to my makeup, no matter how often I have already told her that what I already have on is perfectly fine. But in spite of the fact that I honestly could have predicted her insistence on getting me ready herself, regardless of any protest I chose to make, what I could not have foreseen is the sudden manner in which she stops her efforts entirely, her expression suddenly turning serious before she breaks the silence between us to ask me a question I honestly did not anticipate.

"Are you moving on?"

"Moving on—"

"From Jason," Spencer clarifies, sympathy apparent upon her features as she registers my obvious flinch in response to the question, despite my knowledge that she has no intention of hurting me by asking, "I'm only asking because you're going to this thing with Noel, and after what you told me happened when the two of you were at the Grille—"

"I don't really know that there's anything to move on from."

"I'd beg to differ on that one."

"Why?"

"Because the two of you had something more than what Noel tried to tear apart in the course of a single afternoon."

"Yeah. We did. But I think the past tense is the key in this scenario, Spence," I begin, allowing my eyes to close so that my sister can brush more eye shadow on my eyelids, and exhaling in a huff as I register the almost immediate scoff she gives me to show her disbelief over what I have just said, "We don't—whatever we had, I think it's gone."

"And now you're moving on with the guy that caused that to happen?" Spencer persists, stepping back from me so that she can replace the eyeshadow on top of the dresser, and likely in hopes of giving her some means of avoiding looking me in the eye, "I'm sorry, Ava, but that doesn't seem to be the smartest plan you've ever had."

"You're the one who picked out the dress!"

"Just because I want my sister to look good doesn't mean I approve of what she's doing."

"So, what do you think I should do?" I inquire, stepping back towards the mirror, and inspecting my appearance with an expression that is nothing less than skeptical, despite the fact that I get the sense that my sister is about as adrift as I am.

"I think you should be careful with Noel. But if you're ready to move on—"

"Do it?"

"Only if you're ready."

"And if I'm not?"

For a moment, I almost believe that Spencer is going to remain silent, in lieu of giving me an answer, my anxiousness over that fact, and all that this night might entail spiking such that I can feel my heart practically jumping around in my chest. But before I can become too discouraged by her lack of response, I realize she has come to stand at my side before the mirror so that she can loop her arm through my own, a half-hearted smile tugging at the corners of her lips before she finally decides to reply.

"Then just be safe. And make sure Noel knows where you are with the whole thing before it turns into something you regret."

"And you'll show up at the party later, right?" I persist, somehow knowing that if I am truly going to this thing alone, the outcome will not be nearly as favorable as it would be with her there.

"I'll be there, Ava. I just need to make some headway on this paper, first."

Reassured more than I truly have any right to be by her promise, I settle for managing a simple nod of acknowledgement before heading to the door, and stooping to pick up the heels that match the dress Spencer chose for me, my apprehension at least for the moment quieting down in favor of the need to simply move forward, no matter how uncertain I may be. I would be lying if I were to pretend that my thoughts were not occasionally drifting back to Jason, no matter how hard I try to avoid it. But regardless of that reality, I am almost eerily determined to get on with the evening in spite of it, my shoulders squaring as I straighten once more, and head into the hallway and towards the stairs.

Whether I end up regretting my decision to do this or not, I am committed, now…

…

Much to my relief, by the time I arrive at Noel's, I am not the first one there, the sight of both Ben's and Sean's cars already in the driveway providing more relief than I care to admit. Of course, I did not truly believe he would do anything that untoward—not really, no matter how much Spencer may appear to think otherwise. But despite that belief, it is still at least somewhat promising that we will not be left entirely to our own devices, at least in the beginning, and that is what allows me to walk through the door that has been left propped part of the way open, and manage a faint smile by way of greeting when Noel looks up from the game of foosball he is currently engaged in, and begins to head my way before I can stop it.

"You came," He enthuses, his arms almost immediately winding about my waist so that he can pick me up and spin me in a half-circle before my feet are back on the ground, and I am able to manage a reply.

"Did you really have that many doubts?"

"Maybe."

"Well I think it's safe to say you can put those to rest," I tell him, aware of the fact that he is keeping one arm looped about my waist, despite the fact that both Ben and Sean are eyeing us with some amount of skeptical intrigue to say the least, "I'm here."

"Yeah you are. Want something to drink?"

"You ask as though you don't already know the answer."

"Hey—just wanted to make sure," Noel replies, abandoning his hold on my waist in favor of moving towards the cooler that stands at the opposite end of the room, and offering me a beer, instead. For a moment, I am tempted to decline the offer, in spite of the fact that I was more than willing to partake not five seconds prior. But before that temptation can get in my way I find that I am reaching out and taking the beer with perhaps a bit more enthusiasm than is wise, a half-smile crossing my features as I open the bottle, and end up almost choking on the sip I am taking when Sean chooses to question me from his position beside the foosball table.

"Hanna told me that the cop that's been harassing her came after you too—" He begins, leaning against the table while he regards me with an expression that is equal parts curious, and concerned, "What'd he want from you?"

"You mean aside from trying to accuse me of killing one of my best friends?" I quip, pausing just long enough to register both Sean's nod of response to my inquiry, and to take another sip of my beer before going on, "Just basic harassment, or at least that's what it seems like right now."

"Does your mom know about it?"

"God, no. I don't think she'd let me leave the house if she did."

"Well we can't have that," Noel interjects, clearly picking up on some of my displeasure over talking about Wilden, and his persistence at picking apart nearly every single thing that both Hanna and I have done both now, and in the days that led up to Ali's disappearance, and choosing to stand close by my side once again as though he thinks that in doing so, he will provide the reassurance that I so clearly need, "You can't come to parties if you're under house arrest."

"And I'll lose my mind if I'm under house arrest—" I add, managing a laugh in spite of the nervousness that resurfaces almost immediately in the wake of any talk of Wilden at all, and finding that through Noel's apparent intervention, the topic of conversation appears to have shifted, at least for the time-being, "Always assuming, of course, that I had much of a mind to start with."

"Trust me, Ava. You do."

"Well thank you, Sean."

"Any time."

"What do you say we get this party going, then?" Noel asks, the smile he gives me proving to be far more reassuring than I think it really should be, while he simultaneously loops an arm around my waist once again while I take another swig of beer and nod my agreement before my mind can catch up with me and cause me to pull away. I am still not entirely sure what I am doing here, or if I would be better suited at home, without the buzz that I am already starting to feel from the beer in my hand. But no matter what my doubt may do to prevent me from simply letting go, and living in the moment, I am determined to overcome it, some sort of instinct that I did not even know I possessed prompting me to take another sip of beer, and settle against Noel's side as though I truly belong there.

Maybe the more I think of it like that, the more I will start to feel comfortable, instead of feeling like I am about to crawl out of my own skin.

…

Some unknown amount of time later, I find myself standing on the deck that looks out over Noel's backyard, the steady thump of bass emanating from the speakers inside the den thrumming through my veins while I lean against the railing with yet another beer in hand. On some level, I know that I have over-indulged, though I am not entirely capable of bringing myself to stop. And even with the awareness lingering at the back of my mind telling me that allowing myself to get so inebriated will not remove the stress I feel over Wilden's interrogation, 'A', and any number of other factors at play in my life, I find that I am readily draining the beer I have in my hand, regardless, a smile stealing over my features as I register another presence coming to stand directly behind me with hands placed upon my hips.

"How's it going, Aviator?"

"Mmm—good."

"Good," Noel replies, using the hold he has on my hips to pull me backwards until I am flush against his chest, and stooping down to rest his chin upon my shoulder. With such close proximity, I can smell the scent of alcohol on his breath, mingled with his cologne in such a way that only serves to relax me further, no matter how ridiculous that fact may be, in reality. But before I can fully wrap my mind around the implications of that very realization, I find that Noel is leading me over towards the bench at the outer edge of the deck, my feet stumbling over themselves until I am forced to simply kick off my heels and pad along after him with my bare feet.

"You feel like sitting down?"

"You read my mind," I murmur, allowing my hand to drop into his own so that he is able to pull me into his lap, and choosing to simply give in to the desire to lean against his sturdy frame, rather than sitting upright on my own.

"Comfortable?"

"I think so."

"Good," Noel says, one of his hands taking up the task of rubbing haphazard little patterns up and down my spine, and causing me to shiver a bit in response while he tilts his head just a bit to speak against the skin of my neck, "It's nice to see you this relaxed, for once."

"I'm always relaxed."

"And I'm the president of the United States."

"You are _not_," I protest, making a half-hearted attempt at swatting my hand against Noel's shoulder, and finding myself distracted by the fact that he has intercepted the gesture and used the opportunity to thread his fingers through my own while I attempt to distract myself from that reality by speaking once again, "Don't you have—guests to take care of?"

"I'm taking care of one of them right now."

"I'm not the only one you've got—"

"You're the only one I'm worried about," Noel insists, his expression unreadable as he regards me for a moment in silence. Of course, I am still aware of the bass throbbing through the speakers, and out onto the deck through the partially opened sliding glass door, each beat seeming to move in time with my heartbeat as I struggle to reconcile my current position with how I came to be here to begin with. But in spite of the fact that I know I really ought to be more concerned with the haze that is stealing through my mind bit by bit the more I remain outside, and alone with Noel, I find that I am near to powerless to get myself out of the situation as a whole.

Perhaps that is why when Noel finally leans in to kiss me, I do not resist, some sort of desperation to continue in the acts that have led to the haze prompting my movements despite the fact that I know on some level that this is not what I truly want.

For a time, the sensation of his lips moving against mine while I shift until I am all but straddling him does serve as some sort of distraction, my arms winding around his neck as I seek to press myself as close to his warmth as I can. In the back of my mind, I can practically hear my subconscious urging me not to do this—demanding that I stop, before I reach the point of no return. But in spite of that awareness, I persist in simply going with the moment as it comes, the heady sense of relief that I am feeling _something _besides the crippling anxiousness and uncertainty giving me leave to accept the feel of Noel's hands skimming up and down my sides without shying away.

Whether or not my current actions are wise, or even logical, I cannot seem to give up the feeling that comes along with them no matter how hard I try, my nerves all but singing with each and every second that Noel's hands roam across my skin. In this moment, it doesn't even matter to me that anyone could walk out onto the deck and see exactly what it is that we are doing. And although I know it is foolish, particularly in light of the fact that I know Spencer was right in asking me if I was ready to move on from Jason, I barely even flinch when Noel breaks the kiss in favor of beginning to trail his lips from my jawline to the skin of my neck, a gasp escaping as my fingers move instinctively to card through his hair and scratch against his scalp.

I am so lost in the moment—in the haze of alcohol zinging through my veins, and the sensation of Noel's mouth and hands moving against my skin—that I do not even realize something is wrong until the sharp sound of a cracking twig reaches my ears. In spite of the fact that I almost immediately tense once my mind catches up with the implications of what that sound might mean, Noel appears to remain oblivious, a low groan vibrating through him as the sharp nip that he delivers to the base of my neck causes me to flinch. But the sound of another sharp crack coming from somewhere in the backyard, coupled with a faint rustling of leaves soon has me pushing Noel away, and struggling to extricate myself from his arms so that I can stand on my own two feet, one hand lifting to tuck an errant lock of hair behind my ear before I find the words to speak.

"Did you—did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"That sound," I press, yanking my hand away as Noel reaches out to try and pull me back towards him, and retracing the steps that led me out onto the deck to begin with so that I can make a grab for my discarded heels, "I think—I think someone was watching us."

"It was probably just the wind, Ava—" Noel states, his tone rather clearly indicating how my reaction has caught him off guard, just as it all but pleads for me to allow us to return to how we had been, just moments before, "Come on, just relax."

"Relax? Easier said than done."

"Well—where do you think you're going?"

"Inside."

"Ava, come on—"

Ignoring Noel in favor of hurrying back towards the house, I push through the sliding glass door and allow my eyes to begin the task of scanning the room for any sign of where Spencer might have taken herself in the amount of time since I first saw her arrive. Although the alcohol-induced haze is still prevalent in my mind, I seem to recall seeing her with Hanna and Emily the last time I was actually indoors. But before I can put too much effort into seeking her out once again, I am distracted by the sudden realization that nearly everyone in the room leading off from the deck has allowed their attention to fixate upon me, my heart dropping to rest near my stomach as I realize nearly everyone has their phones clutched tightly in their hands.

_Oh god—no—no—_

"Ava—Ava, come on!" A voice exclaims, the sudden sensation of a hand latching onto my forearm effectively startling me out of my reverie, and prompting me to look at my would-be rescuer, only to find that the frantic tugging on my arm has come from none other than Hanna, herself. I do not see Spencer with her, or Emily either for that matter, though I try my best to jolt my mind out of its fog so that I can locate my friends one by one. But something in the way Hanna's eyes search my face for a moment, despite the fact that I can tell she has been crying jolts me out of my paralysis enough for me to allow her to cart me through the throngs that are still staring at us both, despite the fact that I am almost immediately forced to the realization that she is about to drag me out the front door and onto the driveway even though I am still only carrying my heels.

"Han—Hanna, can you wait up a second?"

"No. We need to go. Now," She persists, continuing to tug on my arm even in the face of the fact that I am following her willingly enough, though I do pause to ensure that the front door closes securely in our wake. In truth, whatever buzz I had from the beers I consumed appears to have fizzled away rapidly in light of the gnawing sense of dread at what on earth might have appeared on the phones of every single person at this party to make them look at me like they did. And although I want to question Hanna on exactly what had transpired, particularly as it seems to be at least part of the reason behind our hasty departure I find that I am entirely distracted by the discovery that we are heading towards a car that does not belong to her, at all.

"This is—Hanna, this is Sean's car," I begin, ignoring the stinging sensation that has taken root in the soles of my feet as I come to a stop and watch in surprise as Hanna unlocks the driver's side door before whirling on me, and giving me a look that clearly indicates if I do not get in, she will simply leave me behind if I choose to respond in the negative to her next directive.

"Get in, Ava. Please."

Deciding that I would be better served by listening to her, rather than resisting her plea, I move around the front end of the vehicle and clamber into the passenger seat while Hanna turns the key in the ignition, whatever it is that is aggravating her clearly causing her to only just give me the time to shut the door before she is peeling towards the end of the driveway without a second thought. It is only then that I realize I have left my purse behind somewhere in the depths of Noel's kitchen, my teeth worrying at my lower lip for a moment while I send a silent prayer skyward that Spencer will have the forethought to come across it, and bring it home with her. But like always, Hanna seems to sense my desire even though I have never spoken of it aloud, one of her hands moving from the steering wheel, to dig through her purse that rests between us until she finds her cell phone and can hand it to me with the evidence of the need for our departure resting clearly before my eyes.

It is a picture of Noel and I, wrapped up in one another out on the deck, my head tilted back to allow him free range of my neck, while one strap of my dress slips off of my shoulder…

A picture that was, rather predictably, captioned with a text from the mystery person that has chosen to make it their job to torment both me, and my friends, for no apparent reason at all.

_Looks like some people have no trouble moving on. Gotta love a girl who just wants to have fun—A_

…

**Hellooooooooo there, darlings! Welcome to chapter fourteen! I have to say, I am very excited to have managed another chapter (and a longer one at that) so quickly, given my penchant for long time delays between updates. But I'm still a bit apprehensive about it, since a few things turned out rather differently than when I initially sat down and thought about where this chapter would go. I decided to give the muses free reign though, instead of trying to force things down their original path. So hopefully even with that reality, the chapter was an enjoyable read? If not, I can always try for taking it down and reworking it a bit. So, either way, please don't hesitate to let me know! I am quite anxious to see what you think!**

**As always, my heartfelt thanks go out to each and every one of you who have taken the time out of your busy lives to read, follow, favorite, and review this story so far (and special thanks to my reviewers: Ineveryfandom, Hope10, Loving Liar, Princess1, Warriorqueen, Lady Bird, and Guest)! I would be nowhere without your continued kind words of support, and I truly do hope that you continue to enjoy where this story takes us!**

**Until next time, dolls…**

**MOMM**


	15. Chapter 15: Crash and Burn

"Do you see why we had to leave, now?" Hanna inquires, risking a glance at me from the driver's seat, before returning her attention to the road, and pressing her foot against the accelerator even harder than she had been, before, "You and I are apparently A's new playthings."

"You and—you and I?"

"Check my phone. It's in my purse."

Reaching into the back seat to grab the Prada bag and rifle through it to reach Hanna's phone, I find that I am fighting against a startling sense of apprehension, both over the repeated taunts from our mystery tormenter, and the breakneck speed Hanna was using to barrel down the road leading away from Noel's. I still do not understand it—why my friends and I appear to have earned ourselves a barrage of attacks from an unknown source, when not a one of us have been able to come up with a reason why we might deserve such a thing to begin with. But regardless of whether I can understand it or not, I find my heart sinking as I open Hanna's phone, and read the text she must have received at around the same time I received my own…

_Heads up, hon. Hefty Hanna never gets the guy. –A _

"What was this about?" I ask her, stowing her phone back in the bottom of her purse, and twisting around in my seat to place it back where I found it in hopes that she might be persuaded to be forthcoming if I am not looking at her, directly. Of course, I am aware of exactly what her text must be doing to her, no matter its initial cause. And although I am somewhat hesitant to force her to give the message even the slightest bit of acknowledgement, I would be lying if I were to pretend I was not still curious, my attention once again flicking to Hanna's face as I realize she is giving me an answer far more willingly than I might have believed.

"I tried to get Sean to—commit, and he wouldn't do it."

"And 'A' saw?"

"The bitch sees everything," Hanna retorts, taking the approaching corner at such a speed that I am forced to grip the handlebar beside the door for support, "What the _hell _are we supposed to do?"

"Maybe we could start by slowing down?"

"I'll slow down when I'm dead, Ava."

Aware that I am not likely to have any luck in persuading her to drive a bit more carefully, given the circumstances, I do what I can to force myself to settle back in my seat, and remain calm, my thoughts turning inward in an attempt at discerning our next course of action. I have no idea where to even begin, and that prospect scares me far more than I am willing to admit.

Now more than ever, I find myself wishing that I could have had the chance to come clean with Jason at the Grille the other day, if for no other reason than to still have the relative safety of someone to confide in.

As if I could be so lucky…

A sigh escapes me before I can stop it, the squeal of the car's tires forcing me to divert my attention to the window at my right while Hanna speeds around yet another corner. For a moment, time seems to stall, my brow furrowing as the glare of oncoming headlights nearly blinds me. Belatedly, I hear Hanna's sharp intake of breath in the same moment as I become aware of the sound of a blaring horn echoing through the air as well. But in spite of the fact that instinct has every muscle I possess tensing as though I truly believe I have a shot at bracing myself for the impact I now know is coming.

The reality of the collision, of course, is a different matter, entirely.

…

I wake some time later with a start, a wince stealing over my features as the sudden movement tugs at already strained and bruised muscles, and the reflexive tears prick at my eyes while I force them open to try and discern where I am. Fluorescent light is very nearly blinding, while muted chatter makes it all but impossible to tell where one ends, and the other begins. But before I can make any sort of attempt at focusing my thoughts, the sensation of a hand resting upon my arm causes my attention to zero in on its source, my eyes only widening as I realize exactly who it is that is by my side.

"Spence?"

"What the hell happened to you?" My sister demands, her hand squeezing my own as though if she lets me go, she fears I will simply slip away, "Hanna said that a car just came out of nowhere—"

"Hanna? She's—she's okay?"

"They're checking her out right now," Spencer confirms, her gaze sweeping over me for a moment in silence, before she elaborates further, "From the looks of things, she made it out with just a few scrapes and bruises."

"And me?"

"Much of the same. They'll probably be along shortly to check you out, as well."

"Thank God," I murmur, sagging back against the pillow, though my hand still remains rather firmly clutched in Spencer's the entire time, "I can't—does Mom know?"

"Not yet."

"Thank God."

"Is that all that you have to say for yourself?" Spencer demands, incredulity lacing her tone as she removes her hand from mine, and tucks a stray lock of dark hair behind her ear, "What the hell were you and Hanna doing, stealing Sean's car?"

"To be fair, I had nothing to do with Hanna deciding to play grand theft auto," I reply, wincing once again as the act of attempting to scoot up so that my back rests against the pillows instead of my head tugs at my already aggravated abdominal muscles, "I just—she saw the text, and knew I needed to get out of there."

"And the crash?"

"If I knew what caused it, believe me, I'd tell you. Is the other driver okay?"

"What other driver?"

"The—there was a car coming straight at us. I—I saw the headlights, and then Hanna swerved, and—"

"Ava, they found no other car at the scene," Spencer says, her expression holding an intriguing mix of both concern, and something that suggests she might just be questioning my sanity, "Just Sean's car, smashed against a tree."

"So, they just—what, they just think Hanna lost control and drove into the tree all by herself?"

"Yeah. That's exactly what they think."

Bringing a hand up to shove at some of my hair that has fallen down across my brow, I fight against a crippling sense of anxiousness as I try to think back to the circumstances surrounding the accident as best I can. Doing so is about as effective as trying to grasp onto a wisp of fog, though that realization does not exactly dissuade me from persisting, regardless—

I saw that car. I _know _I did. So why is it that the more I sit here trying to remember specific details in an effort to make my claim seem less fictitious, the harder it is to focus on anything concrete?

As if she can sense my disquiet, I find that I am momentarily startled back into some semblance of awareness at the renewed sensation of Spencer's hand latching onto my own, my eyes meeting hers while I do what I can to quiet my racing heart. On some level, I know that if I cannot force myself back into some sort of calm, it may jeopardize my ability to return home. And regardless of how I am still more than a little determined to get to the bottom of my recollection of the events leading up to what landed me in this particular predicament to begin with, I force myself to focus on Spencer alone, for the time-being, my brow furrowing as I squeeze her hand to provide what little reassurance I can before I speak.

"Did you end up finishing that paper?"

"That's what you're going to ask me about? A paper?"

"Seems better than the alternative."

"And what alternative might that be?" My sister persists, one brow lifting in obvious skepticism, despite the fact that a faint smile has started to tug at her mouth to betray her amusement over my apparent decision to change the topic of our conversation to something so mundane, "Reality?"

"As far as I'm aware, that paper is pretty real, Spence."

"You're funny."

"I know," I admit, smiling myself in response to my sister's rather predictable turn to sarcasm, and glancing down at where her hand still holds my own for a moment before going on, "And you are avoiding my question."

"I'll tell you about it later?"

"Why can't you tell me about it now?"

"Because I'd rather go find that nurse who was discharging Hanna to see when she's going to do the same for you," Spencer quips, abandoning her hold on my hand in favor of getting up, and walking over to the thin curtain I had only just realized cordoned off my bed from the rest of what I could only assume was the hospital's emergency department, "Are you okay if I step out for a minute?"

"Sure," I reply, managing a faint nod that I hope is reassuring enough for my sister to feel that I won't vanish into thin air the second she leaves me to my own devices, "And Spence?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you. For—for being here."

"Where else would I be, Ava? You're my sister," Spencer states, shaking her head and allowing a faint laugh to escape before she is turning from me, and ducking around the curtain to head off in search of the nurse taking care of discharge. Regardless of whatever uncertainties I still possess regarding both the crash, and the circumstances surrounding exactly how our mystery tormenter managed to snap that photo of Noel and I without leaving any trace of their presence behind, it is far more comforting than I would have dared to believe, having my sister here by my side. And although I am nowhere near done with being preoccupied over my own troubles, I cannot help but latch onto the fact that it appears there might be something Spencer is not telling me, as well.

I would have been blind had I missed her careful evasion of my simple inquiry regarding her paper, and though I knew I may not have the chance to press her about that in the immediate future, that did not mean that I would forget, either…

If she was going to be insistent upon protecting me from my demons, she could be damned sure I would be doing the same for her.

…

Returning home after my brief stint in the hospital emergency room proves to be every bit as daunting as I had feared, between my mother's near to endless interrogation over the exact circumstances of the crash Hanna and I had been involved in, and my father's equally endless threats to hunt down the car I claimed I had seen himself. Fortunately for me, both of them seem to take me at my word in that regard, and, with Spencer's help, I am able to convince them quickly enough that Hanna is not at fault for the entire affair.

The only thing that remains, it seems, is convincing them that I am more than capable of fending for myself the next few days, so that they can travel to New York for some seminar or another, and a bit of relaxation as well.

With that task finally accomplished, Spencer and I have succeeded in holing ourselves up in her room to attempt making some headway on the mountains of homework we still have yet to finish, though neither one of us appears to be having much luck in that regard. For my part, I seem to be rather adept at simply staring at the screen of my laptop while the cursor on the document I have opened up blinks at my lack of progress rather mockingly, if truth be told. But before I can spend too much time doing exactly that I find myself distracted by the sound of an exasperated huff, my gaze flicking to where Spencer sits at her desk with her head held gingerly in both hands.

"If I have to look at one more of these questions about cell biology, I'm going to lose it."

"Ooh—keep looking. And let me get my cell to take some video," I tease, shoving my laptop away from me, and sprawling on my sister's bed in such a way that I can at least attempt to stretch my still throbbing muscles. The painkiller that the emergency room doctor discharged me with has dulled some of the discomfort, of course, though I am still poignantly aware of it every time I make an attempt to move too quickly. Not for the first time, I find my thoughts straying once again to Hanna, my displeasure over not having been able to see that she was alright myself before she left hardly tempered by the knowledge that her mother had clearly thought she was sound enough to read her the riot act as she led her out to their car.

Whether or not her mother thought so, I was still nearly frantic over the fact that had things gone just a bit differently, one or both of us might not have walked away from the event after all…

"Ava—don't go there," Spencer cautions, the worry that is so apparent in her words rather effectively snapping me out of my own internal musings, and forcing me to glance at her directly as she vacates the chair before her desk, and moves to perch on the edge of her bed instead, "You're _fine_. Hanna is _fine_. And you'll see her again at school on Monday."

"How did you know I was thinking I wouldn't?"

"Because you've never been one to master your facial expressions. And I've been looking at them since we were born."

"And I apparently forgot you were practically baby Einstein," I retort, glancing down at the bedspread while my fingers toy with an errant thread, and frowning just a bit before voicing what has really been plaguing my mind almost since we arrived back at home, "Do you think—do you think that maybe our mutual friend was in that other car?"

"Honestly, Ava? I don't know what to think," Spencer admits, her brow furrowing just a bit as though the thought of not having an answer for a question that is as impossible as this one is preposterous, "You're still set on the fact that there _was _a car?"

"I am. I know what I saw, Spence."

"I'm not saying you don't. I just—"

"You just what?" I demand, my exasperation with my own memories, and the fact that near everyone I've spoken to since the event seems determined to discount them without a second thought slipping into my tone, no matter how hard I try to avoid it. I know Spencer is not accusing me of lying. I just know it. But regardless of my own personal awareness, it is as though some sort of instinct is rising up in defense of my assertion, anyway, my teeth coming to worry at my lower lip for just a moment before I risk speaking again, "I'm sorry. I just don't get why literally no one else is willing to admit that the presence of another car is even possible."

"Because there was apparently absolutely zero forensic evidence at the scene to indicate one was there."

"Yeah, well maybe it was meant to look that way."

"What do you mean by that?" Spencer inquires, holding up her hands as I clearly appear to have jumped on the defensive once again, and hurrying to elaborate so that I might hopefully stand down, "I mean—do you—do you think someone might have tampered with things?"

"Someone has already _been _tampering with things," I state, wincing as I attempt to force myself into a seated position, and waving Spencer off when she almost immediately moves to try and help, "From where I'm standing, this person is already always one step ahead of us. Is it that much of a stretch to think maybe they're good at making it look like we're pulling facts out of thin air, too?"

"I suppose not. But why would they risk tampering with evidence from a crash?"

"Why would they risk discovery themselves by trying to push police like Wilden towards us when it comes to suspects in Ali's disappearance?"

"Because whoever is doing this is seriously messed up," Spencer supplies, running both hands through her hair, and rumpling it up from its already semi-disheveled state to give evidence to her apparent frustration, "And they've moved from taunting texts, to vehicular homicide, apparently."

"I'm pretty sure I'd take vehicular homicide over facing the entire school on Monday," I confess, finally managing to sit erect so that I can reach behind me and grab one of Spencer's pillows as though I truly believe that clutching it tightly to my chest will shield me against whatever is to come, "Unless of course you think not everyone in our class got that picture."

"You and I both know we won't be that lucky."

"Yeah. I guess we do."

"Have you thought about telling Mom and Dad?"

"About what? The fact that I got drunk and damn near stripped down to my bra and panties on Noel's deck? Yeah, that will go over _really _well."

"I mean have you thought about telling them about the text?" Spencer clarifies, seemingly aware of how her inquiry has me almost automatically tensing, and looking at the pillow clutched between my hands, as opposed to meeting her gaze directly, "Maybe they could get out ahead of it, try and find out who sent it in the first place."

"Or they could just ground me for an eternity, and I'd never see the light of day again."

"Yeah, but if you were grounded, maybe A couldn't get any more information on you."

"Very funny, Spencer."

"I'm not entirely sure that I'm kidding."

"Well I'm entirely sure that you should be," I quip, rolling my eyes in obvious exasperation, and yet finding that even in spite of that, I am not entirely able to avoid the laugh that breaks free in response to Spencer's assertion, "Trust me, I'd go stir crazy."

"Stir crazy is a damn sight better than dead."

"Spencer—"

"Well it is," My sister insists, her arms folding against her chest as she scoots a bit further back on the mattress to give herself room to cross her legs, as well, "You've got to trust someone, sometime."

"I do trust someone. Several someones, in fact."

"Hanna, Emily, and Aria don't count, Ava. Not in that way, and you know it."

"They're our best friends, Spencer. Who else are we going to trust if not them?" I ask, regarding my sister with an expression that is nothing short of incredulous, though I am also forced to recognize, almost immediately, that I know where she is coming from before she even says a word.

"What I mean, Ava, is that maybe it's time one of us wised up and went to an adult about all of this."

"And what do we do when they think we're just trying to pull their strings? These 'adults' you're talking about already aren't believing Hanna and I about the other car—"

"Maybe Mom and Dad would."

"Or maybe they'd use it as another excuse to keep me locked away in my room for all eternity."

"And again—it's better than dead," Spencer repeats, startling me with the sudden vehemence in her tone, and consequently forcing me to look her in the eye once again, "I'm not saying you have to tell them, and I'm definitely not going to do it myself. It's just—something to consider. That's all."

"Point noted," I assure her, managing a faint smile, and hoping that she sees the fact that I am sincere in my reply, no matter how much I may have just protested her idea to begin with, "I promise, Spence. I'll consider it."

Apparently satisfied with my reply, at least for now, Spencer swings her legs over the edge of the bed so that she can get up and head back to her desk once again. After taking a seat, and running a finger over the mousepad to wake her laptop from sleep mode, she seems content to settle back into the task of attempting to complete some homework—and that leaves me to return my attention back to my own computer screen, the blinking cursor no less illuminating as to how I should begin my history paper than it had been, before.

No matter how fervently I tried to ignore them, my thoughts did not seem capable of straying very far from exactly I might face upon my return to school, Monday…

Something tells me it will be akin to those dreams you get where you have to give a huge speech in front of hundreds of people, and you aren't wearing a stitch of clothing to cover yourself and preserve your pride.

…

**Hello there, angels! And welcome to chapter fifteen! I know that this one is a bit more of a filler than anything else, in terms of action, so I hope that fact isn't too objectionable. The muses were a bit more than adamant that I switch up the scene where Hanna crashes Sean's car, and I wasn't able to redirect them in any way. Oops?**

**As always, my heartfelt thanks go out to each and every one of you that has taken the time to read, follow, favorite and review this story so far (Ineveryfandom, Hope10, Loving Liar, Princess1, Warriorqueen, and Lady Bird, this means you)! I would be absolutely nowhere without your kind words of support, and as always, I cannot wait to see what you think of this latest installment! Hopefully it wasn't too boring?**

**Until next time, dolls…**

**MOMM**


	16. Chapter 16: Caught Red-Handed

"You ready for this?" Spencer inquires, her voice effectively forcing me from my own internal musings, and causing me to meet her gaze head-on, instead, "Because I'm sure we could get you out of going to class today if you said you were still feeling the brunt of your injuries from the crash."

"Prolonging the inevitable has never really been my thing," I reply, exhaling in a rush, and reaching for my bookbag where I have left it resting upon the kitchen counter, while my free hand latches onto my travel coffee mug as though my life depends upon it, "It is what it is, right?"

"That's one way of putting it."

"From where I'm sitting, that's the only way of putting it."

"And if you walk in and every single eye of that school is fixed on you? What then?"

"Then they'll be at least half as fixated on you, seeing as you promised not to leave my side."

"Remind me why I decided to do that, again?" Spencer quips, nudging her elbow gently against my side, and managing a faint smile as soon as she determines that I appear to be relaxing just a bit, in spite of my lingering nerves, as a direct result of her statement, "Oh yeah. Because you're the best sister a girl could ever dream of."

"Nice save."

"I aim to please."

"I'm glad somebody does," I tease, returning the nudge that Spencer has given me wholeheartedly, before I am stepping around her, and heading towards the door, "Because from the looks of things, I'm going to be the family screw-up for a while, now."

"I wouldn't be too sure about that," My sister counters, something unreadable passing over her features before she can stop it, and consequently causing my brow to furrow as I turn back to face her more directly, while attempting to direct our conversation towards whatever it is that appears to be troubling her so effectively.

"And are you going to tell me why that is? Or do I have to pry it out of you with coffee and a year's supply of those buttercreams you used to love so much?"

"Coffee, yes. Buttercreams, no. Unless you want to join me in running off all the calories we both consume, because there's no way in hell I'm binge-eating those on my own."

"No thanks. I think I'm good."

"That's what I thought you'd say."

"Well I trust you know it's not because I'm trying to get out of any sisterly bonding," I clarify, once again turning my attention towards getting to the door that will lead to the expanse of property at the side of our home, and consequently, Spencer's car as well, so that we can get to school on time, if at all possible, "I'm just not a runner. Never have been, never will be."

"Is that why you're so bound and determined to go to school today? Because you don't want anyone to think you're running?"

I don't want 'A' to think I'm running," I state, stepping through the door, and heading over towards the car in spite of the fact that I can practically sense Spencer's hesitation in following me to do the same. I would have been a fool to pretend that I could not understand her concern, particularly as I am still very much aware of the fact that something appears to be bothering her more than she wants to let on, as well. And although I have absolutely no intention of letting up when it comes to getting to the bottom of those troubles that plague her in the near future, I force myself to keep up the front of letting it go for the time-being, one brow lifting as I turn back to face my sister, just as she finally jolts herself into action and locks the door to our home behind her before she replies.

"Has anyone ever told you you're too brave for your own good?"

"Is it bravery, Spence? Or stupidity?"

"Honestly? It's most likely a little bit of both," Spencer admits, seemingly pleased that her remark provokes a small laugh in response, and giving me the faintest of smiles in return before she is maneuvering to the driver's side door of her car, and pressing the button that will unlock the doors so that we can both clamber inside and prepare to make the best of the day, and whatever circumstances it may throw our way.

Regardless of whether we have said it out loud, or not, we both know full well that today is going to be far from the easiest thing either of us have survived, so far…

…

A few hours later, I find myself standing beside my locker with my history book clutched tightly to my chest, while I do the best that I can to avoid succumbing to the panic that clutches at my heart in response to how the majority of people passing me by are making no secret of their stares, and looks of what I can only describe as open derision. If I am being honest with myself, I expected this, particularly as my initial suspicion was correct, and our mystery tormenter really does appear to have sent that photo of Noel and I to almost everyone in the building in possession of a cell phone. But whether I could have predicted it or not, actually facing the consequences of my momentary lapse of judgment is far more difficult than I might have anticipated, my teeth biting into my lower lip so fiercely that I find I am almost immediately startled by the sudden metallic taste of blood as it touches my tongue.

Flinching in response, I bring one hand up to touch at the apparent new wound upon my lower lip, my brow scrunching as the gesture brings a small sting of pain to the edge of my awareness, and consequently prompts me to turn back to my locker in an attempt at reopening it to get a glance at my reflection in the small magnetic mirror attached inside. I know, on some level, that attempting to fix the problem with lipstick is probably futile, though that does not seem to be enough to dissuade me, regardless.

After all, if the entire school is going to be staring at me for the foreseeable future, I might as well look good, right?

In spite of how insane I know the act to be, given the current circumstances, I find myself entirely unable to stop the small laugh that breaks free in response to my utterly vain and ridiculous thought, my eyes narrowing as I take in my reflection in the locker mirror, while a frown simultaneously crosses my lips, despite the secondary tug of pain the act elicits in response. Within seconds, I am applying the aforementioned lipstick, despite the fact that I know, somehow, that it will not do me any good. But before I can finish the act, shut my locker, and attempt to escape into my next class with whatever dignity I have left, I am distracted by the appearance of none other than the person who is half-responsible for getting me into this mess to start with, my heart lodging in my throat as I attempt to scoot past him, only to find that his fingers are curling around my upper arm to pull me back to his side before I can find the wherewithal to stop it.

"Hey. You okay?"

"I need to get to class, Noel—"

"And I don't really think that's the best place for either of us to be, right now," Noel insists, his eyes searching my features for a moment, in spite of the fact that I am doing anything I can to avoid meeting his gaze head-on, "Come on. We'll go someplace where—"

"Where what? We can finish what we started?"

"Ava—"

"Why not, Noel? It's what everyone would probably want," I retort, startling myself with the vehemence behind my tone even with the subsequent realization that if my hands were not clutching my history book, they would be shaking vehemently at my sides, "Why not complete the show, right? Ramp up to an epic conclusion?"

"That's not what I want at all."

"Then what _do _you want?"

"I want to make sure that you're okay," Noel states, lowering his voice and stepping just a bit closer towards me, as though he is actually oblivious to the fact that our little rendezvous has provoked still more staring from our classmates as they meander through the halls to their next class, "And I'm not going anywhere until I can do that, so you may as well just let me and get it over with."

"Is that a threat?"

"It's a promise."

"What if I chose to turn that promise down, anyway?" I ask him, finally forcing myself to look him in the eye, and finding that I am completely blown away by the obvious sincerity inherent in his expression, despite his penchant for superficiality, "Would you let me go to class on my own, then?"

"I don't think so, Aviator. Unless of course you _want _to have to deal with everyone staring at you for the rest of the day."

"Is that really what you think of me?"

"I think you already know the answer to that question," Noel says, something in the certainty inherent in his tone causing me to exhale in a combination of both resignation and the belated realization that he just might be correct in his attempts to get me away from all of this, to start with, "Last chance, Ava. I'm leaving. The only question is, are you going to come with me?"

Whether I want to admit it or not, his offer is far too good to turn down…

…

"Feeling any better?" Noel asks, peering at me from around the mountain of onion rings that rest between us on the patio table of the Grille, and watching with some amusement as I nod a bit around a mouthful of deep-fried goodness, in spite of my lingering doubts. I cannot fully explain it—the reality of the slight mood boost that I have found through stuffing myself full to bursting with greasy food and fruit punch, augmented slightly with whatever the hell Noel smuggled in in the flask he apparently keeps in his jeans pocket. But whether I understand it or not, I am foolishly set on simply accepting it as it is for as long as I can, my shoulders bumping against the wrought-iron backing of the chair I am sitting upon as I swallow the remainder of the onion ring I had been savoring, before permitting myself to speak.

"Don't rub it in, okay? You don't need any extra padding for that ego of yours."

"Is it a crime to say I can tell what a girl needs, even before she realizes she needs it?"

"No. It's a crime to milk it as much as you do sometimes, though."

"If I promise not to milk it, will you let me in on what the hell is going on?"

"What do you mean?" I ask, silently cursing how my voice seems to waver in spite of how badly I want to shrug this entire thing off like it is nothing. I know exactly what he is referring to, of course—that he really does have every right to know what we are up against, inasmuch as I can tell him what little I know. But something instinctive seems to keep me from full disclosure, at least as it pertains to the true origins behind the text that has garnered us so much unwanted attention, my lips turning into a frown as I register Noel's look of abject disbelief before he sets in on me once again.

"I think you know what I mean, Ava. What the hell was behind that text that got mass-produced for our entire school?"

"It was—it was probably just someone pulling a prank."

"You and I both know you don't believe that," Noel protests, leaning forward so that he can place both elbows upon the table, the fingers of one hand working at shredding another onion ring and dropping the pieces on the plate while going on, "What's going on, here?"

"Honestly? I don't have a clue."

"Really?"

"Yes, really, Noel. But go ahead and refuse to believe me if you want," I begin, folding both arms across my chest, and doing what I can to suppress the aggravation I feel over being so effectively put on the spot, in favor of reminding myself that there are bigger factors at play here than my own bruised feelings, "I'm sorry. I am, Noel, I just—"

"You've had a hell of a day and it's barely noon."

"Yeah. Something like that."

"Can you tell me _anything_ about this? Anything at all?" Noel inquires, startling me when he reaches across the table, and grabs for my hand so that he can give it a squeeze, while I simultaneously fight the desire to pull away from his touch as though I have been burned. I know he is only trying to help, regardless of the nature of his apparent methods in doing so, just as I know I should be grateful that he is not simply angry with me for exposing him to social ridicule. But no matter how I may try to convince myself that he is not the enemy, here, I find that I am still facing a seemingly insurmountable sense of anxiety, in spite of the relaxation I felt just moments ago, my teeth coming out to worry at my lower lip for a moment before I am withdrawing my hand from his, and attempting to give him an answer without exposing exactly how terrified I am that this is might only be the beginning.

"I can tell you that—that I'm sorry I dragged you into this."

"What, exactly, is 'this', Ava?"

"The text. The whole school staring at us like we're some sort of shiny new exhibit at the zoo. All of it."

"But you won't tell me why it's happening to begin with."

"Because I don't know!"

"You really expect me to believe that?"

"It would be nice if you did," I admit, flinching away as Noel attempts to reach for my hand a second time, despite the fact that I am not blind to how my reaction has his expression turning sour in seconds, flat, "Just like it would be nice if you took me at my word when I told you I was sorry."

"I'm not blaming you for what happened. I just want to know _why_."

"And that's not something I can tell you."

"Will it ever be something you can tell me?"

"Honestly? I don't know."

"You don't know," Noel repeats, skepticism lacing his tone as he leans back against his own chair, while his hands set to work at shredding another onion ring to bits as though he is not even aware of his own actions, "I thought we were closer than that, Ava."

"You act as though I'm trying to intentionally keep you in the dark."

"It's kind of what it seems like."

"Well that's not what it is," I state, somewhat pleased that, despite my state of mind, I am able to keep my reply even, even though my fingers have curled inward on the arms of the chair I occupy, as though the gesture will really be productive in any sort of tangible way, "From where I'm sitting, it seems like you _do _blame me for this."

"I don't."

"Well you could've fooled me."

"What else do you want me to say, Ava?" Noel demands, the sudden hardness in his words causing me to flinch as he leans back across the table towards me, and tosses the remainder of the onion ring he had been picking apart upon the plate, "God, it's almost like you're refusing to let anyone _protect _you."

"So, you're suggesting I'm enjoying this, then."

As surprised as I am that this entire outing appears to have gone south as quickly as it has, even in spite of my attempt at cautious optimism at its inception, I am even more astonished at the hostility that is so apparent in Noel's gaze, now, my eyes widening just a bit even in the face of my desire to remain aloof. He has not replied to my latest supposition, not that I really expected him to with the way things are going—but something in the way he is looking at me now, as though he truly believes I might be having the time of my life has me scooting my chair back and reaching for my purse, my aggravation and anxiety finally getting the best of me as I realize Noel is moving to stand as well, and almost automatically shake my head as I prepare to depart.

"Don't. I think it would be best for both of us if I went back to school."

"That's really where you think you should be right now?"

"It's looking a hell of a lot better than staying here," I retort, looping the strap of my purse around my shoulder, and tucking a stray lock of hair behind an ear before I finish.

"At least there, I know to expect the hostility. From where I'm standing, that's a hell of a lot better than having it come your way from a friend."

Whether my reaction is childish or not, I am all but determined to do whatever I can to remove myself from the current situation, no matter what suspicions that may provoke about my motives in doing so…

…

My return to the school is relatively uneventful, even in spite of the fact that I am forced to do so on foot, since Noel was the one to drive us to the Grille, my relieved sigh seeming to abate at least some of the tension that has been my near to constant companion since this day began while I walk through the side door near the Russian History classroom, and prepare to come up with some reason or another as to why I am showing up late. Of course, I know that even if the teacher buys into my excuse, it is very likely that Spencer will not. But in spite of the fact that I really do not think I can face her particular brand of interrogation right now, I know it is still a damned sight better than what I endured with Noel, my shoulders squaring as I make a last ditch effort at forcing some determination into my mind while my fingers reach for, and latch onto the doorknob leading into the classroom in the same motion.

Of course, as soon as I have done so, I find every muscle in my body freezing in place upon hearing the sound of a familiar voice coming from immediately behind me, my eyes drifting shut as I exhale a shaky breath while my hand almost immediately drops back to my side.

"Miss Hastings—I have to admit, I never pegged you as a girl who would cut her classes."

"I didn't know you were trying to 'peg' me at all, Detective," I reply, turning back to face the man where he stands in the middle of the hallway, and doing what I can to remain firm even in spite of the fact that the way he is looking at me, like a cat who has just cornered a mouse has my nerves jangling like a damned live electric wire. I can tell that he is going to question me about the accident Hanna and I were in on the way back from Noel's party, even though if asked, I would have absolutely no way of proving how I have come to that supposition to begin with. And although a part of me would love nothing more than to beat him to the punch, particularly as he seems to have a knack for trying to turn the tables on _me_, I force myself to remain silent, my posture straightening just a bit as Wilden approaches, and places both hands inside his pants pockets before he speaks.

"Just trying to figure out why all the rest of your little friends are doing what they should be, staying in class, and you're out here, looking in."

"I had to use the restroom."

"You have a hall pass to back that story up?"

"I—"

"No. You don't. Care to revise your story?"

"I'm not telling a story, Detective. I'm telling the truth."

"I wonder if your teacher would back you up if I went in the classroom, and asked him myself," Wilden says, something in his self-assured smile giving me every reason to believe that he would enjoy nothing more than to do exactly that, regardless of whether it would disrupt the class as a whole, or not, "Maybe I should—"

"Alright. I was skipping, but I decided to come back."

"There it is. I knew the truth would come out, sometime."

"Now that it has, can I please get back to class?"

"I don't think so. See, Ava, I'm thinking if you lie about skipping class, then you might be lying about what you remember about the night when your friend Alison went missing, as well."

"And we're back to that again," I complain, trying as best I can to ignore the jolt of apprehension that rushes through me, in favor of forcing myself to meet Wilden's gaze, head-on while he replies.

"We're going to continue to keep coming back to it, Ava. Until you tell me the truth. You may as well do yourself a favor and come clean."

"Why don't you just cuff me now and get it over with?" I demand, poignantly aware of the potential foolishness of my words, and yet finding myself completely incapable of making any amends in light of how my nerves and aggravation over how this entire day has gone so far seem all but determined to refuse to let me go in favor of more rational behavior, "If you're so determined I killed one of my _best friends_, I don't think there's much I can say to convince you otherwise."

"I'm half tempted to take you up on that offer," Wilden confesses, something almost akin to a predatory gleam taking over his eyes, and causing me to take a hesitant step backwards despite my desire to appear calm and collected, "But I know for a fact that one of your parents would come blazing into the station about five seconds after I did that, and we'd be right back to square one."

"So, you expect me to believe I'm off the hook? As easy as that?"

"I expect you to believe that I'm going to be doing whatever I can to find the evidence you seem so willing to keep to yourself. And believe me, Miss Hastings, as soon as I have it, there won't be a thing that either of your parents can do to save you."

I am not physically capable of coming up with a suitable retort in the face of Wilden's remark—or threat, such as it was, my heart taking up the act of pounding erratically against my rib cage while I stand, motionless, and watch him begin to walk away. I should have known my small surge of bravado would have been short-lived, just as I am equally aware that, with his dogged determination to get to the bottom of what he _thinks _happened on the night of Ali's disappearance Wilden will likely make good on his attempts at digging up something that implicates me in one way or another. And although that realization in and of itself is enough to paralyze me, I force myself to reach into the front pocket of my bookbag to fish out my cell, only a brief moment of hesitation giving me pause before I am typing out a brief text to the one person I hope with all I have will reply.

_Can you talk? I really could stand to hear your voice…_

…

**Well hello, angels! And welcome to a delayed, but hopefully still enjoyable new chapter in Ava's tale! I truly do apologize for the delay in updating, particularly as I don't really have a suitable excuse for that delay, aside from stubborn muses wanting to focus on other stories. But, as always, I have no plans for abandoning this one, particularly as things seem to be heating up on the drama-front (what can I say? I couldn't resist, lol). So, I hope you can all find it within yourselves to forgive me, and to continue to bear with me for new updates! I am nowhere near finished with Ava's story!**

**As always, my heartfelt thanks go out to each and every one of you that has taken the time to read, follow, favorite, and review this story so far (and of course special thanks to last chapter's reviewers: Ineveryfandom, Hope10, Princess1, Loving Liar, Warriorqueen, Lady Bird, and Guest)! I truly do appreciate your support and as always, I hope you enjoyed this chapter every bit as much as you enjoyed the last!**

**Until next time (and stay safe out there, my loves!)**

**MOMM**


	17. Chapter 17: Conflict Resolution

**Hello, dear readers! Before we get started on this newest installment, I just wanted to take a second to alert you all to a soundtrack, of sorts, that I have created for this story over on Spotify! The link is available on my profile, so I really do encourage anyone that has the time and interest to go check it out! I've been having a bit too much fun creating little playlists for all of my stories, so I hope I am not the only one that enjoys them!**

**And now, without further adieu...the chapter! Hope you like!**

**...**

"Where the hell _were _you, Ava?" Spencer demands, effectively stopping me from reaching my locker with the slight pressure of her fingers curling about my wrist, "I was worried sick!"

"I was—I was at the Grille."

"The Grille."

"That's what I said," I deadpan, glancing down at where my sister's still remain curled around my wrist, and lifting a brow as I redirect my gaze to her obviously concerned features before going on, "I just—I had to get out of here for a bit."

"And did you get out of here alone?"

"No."

"Who were you with?" Spencer asks, brown eyes meeting mine as she finally relinquishes her hold upon my arm so that I can open my locker, and grab the textbooks I will need to bring home to successfully complete the slew of homework we have already been assigned today, "Ava, who were you—"

"Noel Kahn."

"Seriously? Of _all _the people you could've ditched class with, you pick _him_?"

"It seemed like a good idea at the time," I retort, stuffing my books in my bag as quickly as I can manage without causing the thing to split apart at the seams, and doing what I can to ignore the weight of nearly every single person's stare as they pass us by on the way to their own lockers, or extra-curricular activities while the final bell signaling our dismissal rings throughout the hall, "And before you say 'I told you so', yes. It backfired."

"How?"

"You sure you really want to know?"

"Why wouldn't I?" Spencer persists, stepping just a fraction of an inch closer to my locker so that she can lean her shoulder against the one beside it as though she truly thinks it will save my dignity to lower her voice so that it is barely audible, given everything that has already transpired with text 'A' sent our entire school, "Ava, I'm trying to help you. You know that, right?"

"Of course, I do, Spence. I just—I'd rather not discuss it here."

"Where would you prefer to discuss it? Because I'm not entirely sure our usual after school coffee is in the gamebook if you're looking for no risk of people eavesdropping."

"Home sounds good to me," I admit, securing my bag over my shoulder, and slamming the door of my locker shut with perhaps a bit more force than is truly necessary before I step away from the wall, and begin the trek towards the door at the end of the hallway we occupy, while Spencer falls into step beside me in next to no time at all, "But do you think you could do me one small favor before we get there?"

"Sure. Anything," Spencer agrees, linking her arm through mine as we weave in and out of the throng of our fellow students that always bogs down the halls at the end of the day, and effectively using that connection to pull me close against her side in a gesture I can only interpret as a gesture of solidarity that prompts my reply.

"Could you stop at that coffee shop anyway? I'd kill for a Frappuccino—"

"I think I could be persuaded. That is, if you're picking up the tab."

"Obviously," I confirm, returning the squeeze Spencer had given my arm with instinctive ease, and allowing myself the faint liberty of a smile for her benefit, even in spite of the anxiousness that bubbled so near to the surface as I remain poignantly aware of the fact that every single person we pass stares at us as though we have dyed our hair a brilliant pink, "The way I see it, this is just the start of the payback I owe you for putting up with all of this drama to begin with."

"Drama?" Spencer repeats, a look of feigned incredulity passing over her features as we finally make it to the doors that lead outdoors, though her arm still remains tightly linked through my own while we head towards her car, "Honestly, Ava, as scary as it sounds I'm kind of getting used to it."

Though I am nowhere near as ready to admit that out loud, I have to admit that I am, too, and I am not entirely sure if we both ought to be relieved by that fact, or scared for what it might mean in the days to come…

…

_(Labor Day, 2009)_

_"Hey—you okay?" Aria inquires, effectively startling me out of my internal musings, and consequently forcing me to divert my attention from the contents of the glass still clutched tightly between my hands as well._

_"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine."_

_"You sure? Because you've been quiet ever since that little showdown with Ali earlier."_

_"I'm sure, Aria. But thank you," I reply, doing what I can to manage a faint smile in response to her obviously genuine concern, and downing the remnants of tequila in the glass I hold before going on, "Are you?"_

_"Why wouldn't I be?"_

_"Because if I were in your shoes, I think a party would be the very last thing on my mind."_

_"I don't think I'm calling this a party," Aria counters, smiling a bit as she takes in my skeptically raised brow, and reaching across the table that sits just before the sofa so that she can grab the bottle of tequila, and pour a refill for us both, "I'm calling it a distraction."_

_"Is it working?"_

_"At the moment? Sort of."_

_"Well then, would you mind if I decided to steal your technique and attempt to make it work for me, as well?" I tease, gratefully accepting the proffered refilling of my glass, and smiling a bit, myself, as Aria almost immediately downs a good third of the contents of her own glass as easily as though it was water before she replies._

_"Yep. Go right ahead. Maybe we could make a game out of it."_

_"A game?"_

_"Yeah. See who has the most success," She supplies, squirming around a bit on the sofa until she has effectively curled herself up in the corner opposite from where I sit, legs crossed beneath me while my fingers thread through each other as best they can around the circumference of the glass I hold between them, "My money is honestly on you."_

_"I wouldn't be so sure about that. I'm not entirely convinced Alison has eased up on her inquisition from earlier, you know."_

_"What exactly is it that she thinks she has a right to know?"_

_"Anything and everything about my life," I retort, frowning a bit as I come to the determination that I have perhaps been a bit too harsh in my reply, particularly as Aria has hardly done a thing to deserve it, "I'm sorry, Aria, I just—"_

_"You're tired of her having access to every single part of our lives, when we so rarely get to see inside her own?"_

_"Yeah. Yeah, that's pretty much it."_

_"You aren't the only one. Trust me. But that's how it's always been. We're her little open books—" Aria states, glancing down at the tequila in her glass, and swirling it just a bit while I take the liberty of finishing her statement like it is a well-rehearsed mantra we have all known since birth._

_"And she's our tightly locked safe. And that will never, ever change."_

_"What will never, ever change, girls?" Alison questions, startling both Aria and myself with her sudden appearance perched on the arm of the chair opposite where we sit, a fall of blonde hair swinging over her shoulder while her free hand came to rest palm flat upon her knee. I can tell, just by one look at her, that she must have overheard exactly what we said, though how much of it, I have no idea. But before I have any hope of concocting a reply that will avert her suspicions, and perhaps cause that gleeful glint in her eye to abate, she takes the answer right out of my hands, her lips turning up in a caricature of a smile as she leans forward and drops her voice so that only Aria and I can hear._

_"I keep my secrets for a reason, girls. And the only reason I know all of yours is so I can protect you."_

_"Protect us from what, Ali?" Aria demands, surprising me with the stunning vehemence in her tone, especially since neither one of us are particularly known for pushing Ali's buttons, even when she deserves it, "From where we're sitting, you just keep them to have something to dangle over our heads every chance you get."_

_"Since when does helping you when your family is about to fall apart something to dangle over your head?" _

_"Since you think it's your right to tell me what to do about what we saw that day, when you aren't the one that has to live with the consequences."_

_"I only told you what I thought you should do because I didn't want to see you blaming yourself if keeping it quiet blew up in your face," Ali hisses, her expression turning from gleeful to something far less pleasant in a manner of seconds, before she turns her attention to me, instead, "I take it you're on her side, here?"_

_"I'm not on anyone's side, Ali. I just think maybe there should be a bit more give and take, as far as personal information is concerned."_

_"Spoken like the perfect little lawyer Mommy and Daddy raised you to be."_

_"Is that supposed to be an insult?" I quip, aware of how Aria seems to have deflated in seconds as a result of Ali's remarks, and somehow finding that such a realization seems to have spurred me into foolhardy rashness, as a result, "Because if it is, you're off your game."_

_"So are you, Ava. Or did you forget, I know about your little fling with an older guy?"_

_"That's none of your damned business—"_

_"I think you've made it my business," Ali insists, standing once again in response to my own decision to rocket upright, and effectively blocking my path while the fingers of one hand curl about my wrist, "And I think you know that I'm right."_

_"You know what I think? I'm leaving," I bite back, wrenching my hand away from Ali's grip, and ignoring the fact that our tense confrontation has now garnered the attention of not only Aria, but Spencer, Hanna and Emily as well, "Move, Alison."_

_"Or what? From where I'm standing, you're the one that has something to lose if you walk out that door, not me."_

_"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"_

_"It means if you take one more step, Ava, I'm going to tell your parents exactly what you're getting involved in when their backs are turned," Ali threatens, managing one step closer towards me, though the effort costs her by allowing me to step back and around her, as a result, "You and I both know that isn't what you want."_

_"Isn't it, though? Because if it finally allows me to be free from you using it as leverage against me every time you want to get your way, then I think I can consider it a win."_

_Before she can think of any other reply to keep me in place, I head towards the door of the barn, aware of how Spencer appears to have attempted to stand, herself, in an effort to stop me, and sending her a look that I hope will convey I do not wish to be followed. In truth, I know that if Ali does go to my parents with what she knows about my involvement with her brother, I will likely be in a world of hurt—and Jason will be, as well. But regardless of the apprehension that such a prospect forces upon me, I find that I am not even remotely capable of remaining in close proximity to Alison in this particular moment, the sudden rush of anger that came about as a result of her endless needling causing my heart to pound erratically against the cage of my chest as I push through the door, and head outside amidst the distant rumble of thunder that signifies an oncoming storm._

_If I could have known that my departure would signify not only the last time I saw Alison alive, but also the impetus behind my inability to recall anything about the rest of that night after the fact, I might have reacted very differently than I was doing right now…_

…

After our return home, with coffee in tow, Spencer and I opt for sitting at the island in the kitchen to get started on our homework, the comfortable silence that exists between us doing far more to settle my nerves than I would ever have believed possible. Of course, my own ability to focus on my schoolwork for anything longer than a matter of seconds is dismal, particularly as I cannot seem to stop my mind from straying back to the text I sent just hours ago. I have received no reply yet, though the rational part of my brain realizes that it could simply be because Jason is busy at work, and will reply later on. But even in spite of that small voice that seems to persist in believing that I should not give up hope—at least, not yet—I am not entirely capable of resisting the urge to fall prey to the suspicion that perhaps he will not reply at all, the frown that crosses my features clearly catching Spencer's attention as she looks up from her Russian History book, and abandons it almost instantly as a result.

"What is it?"

"What's what?"

"Come on, Ava, be realistic. You have a look on your face that suggests there's something you need to talk about," Spencer persists, clearly not buying my feigned stupidity for one second, no matter how fiercely I might want her to, "So spill."

"Gee. You're always so polite," I retort, almost automatically holding up my hand to forestall Spencer's ready reply, and managing a faint smile for her benefit before acquiescing to her request for information as willingly as I can, "But to answer your question from earlier, about how my outing with Noel backfired, I guess it just—it just sort of imploded."

"It imploded?"

"Yeah," I confirm, aware of Spencer's skeptical expression, and exhaling in a rush before endeavoring to provide a better explanation, "He was pressing for more information on what, or who, was behind that text. And I just couldn't—I couldn't give that to him, Spence—"

"And he didn't take it well?"

"Not at all."

"Well that sounds like it's his problem. Not yours," My sister advises, her fingers fiddling idly with the already bedraggled corner of her textbook as she pauses for just long enough to wet her lips with the tip of her tongue, before going on, "He's not entitled to every last detail of your life, even if he does think he's your boyfriend."

"He's definitely not _that_."

"Does _he _know that?"

"I don't really know," I admit, my teeth coming out to worry my lower lip as I reconcile myself with the truth behind such a simple statement, and frown almost immediately in response, "I mean—I guess a part of me gets it. His frustration—_he _was a target in that text 'A' sent, too—"

"Yeah, but that doesn't give him the right to act like he can jump down your throat for not being able to give him a straight answer, Ava. Any way you cut it, that's just—well pardon my French, but it's just a dick move."

Unable to resist the laugh that my sister's remark provokes, I opt instead for simply giving in, the slight smile that Spencer's answering chuckle brings to my lips almost—_almost_—relieving me of my anxiousness and uncertainty for a moment as I focus on the task of reaching across the kitchen island to grab her hand, and give it a small squeeze by way of thanks. I would have been a liar to pretend that I do not appreciate her staunch defense of my situation, whether or not I can entirely assuage my guilt about the entire ordeal as a result. But regardless of my own personal waffling as it pertains to this afternoon's encounter with Noel, I am all but determined to ensure that Spencer knows how very much I appreciate her attempt at intervening and providing advice, my brow furrowing for just a moment before I manage the words to reply.

"Thank you for saying that. Seriously. Though I'm not really sure it makes me any less upset about the whole thing."

"I definitely didn't intend it to. You have a right to be pissed. In fact, I encourage it."

"Really?"

"Yeah," Spencer says, leaning back in her chair, and reaching for the as yet untouched bottle of water she grabbed from the fridge almost as soon as we got home, "It sounds like he was being a major ass."

"And now you hit the nail on the head," I acknowledge, hopping down off the stool I am perched upon, and padding over to the refrigerator myself in hopes of finding a suitable snack, "I just—I wish I had never gone with him to the Grille to begin with, if all it was going to do is make things worse."

"You couldn't have known that when you left, Ava—"

"Is that the sound of my own sister actually forgiving me for skipping a class?"

"You never needed my forgiveness, you know. I just wish you would have told me beforehand, that's all."

"I'll try to keep that in mind, next time."

"Next time," Spencer repeats, watching me carefully as I finally select a Tupperware container with some leftover grapes, and shut the refrigerator door behind me so that I can make my way back towards my seat, "There's going to be a next time?"

"Not with Noel, no. But I won't promise that I'll never do it again, especially if things keep going the way they are right now."

"Would you ever consider allowing me to join you? I think it may just be a matter of time before I'm in the same cauldron of hot water that you are."

"I will if you finally tell me what the hell makes you think that you _will_ be in hot water," I propose, catching the minute flinch Spencer gives in response to my suggestion, and frowning just a bit as I hop back up onto the stool I had abandoned just moments ago, "Come on, Spence, it can't possibly be that bad—"

"Trust me. It is," Spencer argues, running one hand through her dark hair, and frowning a bit as she simultaneously leans forward to place her elbows upon the surface of the island that rests between us, "Remember that Russian History essay I was agonizing about?"

"How could I forget?"

"I kind of never finished it."

"Um—yeah, I think you did," I protest, folding both arms across my chest, and regarding my sister with an expression that likely indicates exactly how much her latest statement has me questioning her memory recall capabilities, "I saw you hand it in after class with my own two eyes."

"No, that's—that's not what I mean."

"Then what _do _you mean, Spence? You've lost me, here."

"I stole Melissa's paper, and turned it in as my own," Spencer blurts, the tail end of her admission coming out in a whispered cry as she buries her face in her hands, and shakes her head in obvious frustration, "Go ahead. Tell me exactly how stupid that was. I can take it."

"I'm not going to do that."

"Why not?"

"Because after all the times I've pulled hair-brained stunts and you haven't judged me, I'd be a hypocrite if I turned around and did that to you."

"But you do think it was hair-brained—"

"I didn't say that," I caution, once again reaching across the table to grab for my sister's hand, and pulling it gently away from its position covering her face so that I can look her in the eye, instead, "You've had a hell of a week, and that paper was _torturing _you. I know that as well as you do."

"But that doesn't justify what I did—"

"Maybe it doesn't for everybody else. But as far as I'm concerned, it does for me. Besides, it's not like Melissa hasn't done horrible things to you, in the past."

"Ava—"

"I'm serious!" I exclaim, glancing down at our now entwined hands, and managing a faint smile before meeting my sister's gaze once again, "And what you did doesn't hurt her at all."

"It does if you account for her pride."

"I don't think anyone in the world could possibly account for that monstrosity."

As I had intended, Spencer's laughter is not that long in following my little quip, despite the fact that I know it has not rectified the situation in its entirety. I know that Spencer is not likely to ease up on her self-imposed guilt trip, and that it is likely made even worse by the awareness of the ordeal with Wren on top of it all. But regardless of that realization, and the fact that I know that this will hardly be the last time I am required to provide encouragement where my sister is concerned, I also know full well that I will not hesitate to do so again and again, the only thing keeping me from actually telling Spencer this being the sudden buzz my cellphone gives against the granite of the countertop it rests upon, my nerves jumping to full attention as I stand and move over to glance at the name scrolling across the screen.

_Jason_…

"Do you—do you mind if I take this, Spence?" I inquire, grabbing the device with one shaking hand, and glancing back towards my sister, only to find that she is nodding readily, before turning her attention back to the textbook she had been perusing just moments before.

"Go right ahead."

"Okay, I—I'll be right back."

Secure in the knowledge that Spencer will be waiting for me upon my return, I take the phone and pad through the den to enter our father's office, my free hand gently closing the door behind me, while the other finally enables the phone to answer the call, and lifts the device to my ear.

"Hey, Jason—"

Whether my initial decision in texting him was wise or not, I am more relieved than I can possibly put into words at the prospect of simply hearing the sound of his voice…

…

**Well hello there, my darlings! And welcome to the next chapter in Ava's tale! Once again, I feel I must apologize for the delay, and for the fact that this chapter is, at best, mostly a filler, rather than something that pushes us forward into the next little blip of action. I promise you, it really is not my intent to drag things out so much that they become painful. But every time I start writing for a particular segment, the muses seem to want to make things a bit more detailed than I thought they would at the beginning. So, I do truly hope that such a thing is not too problematic. I promise I will try to keep things moving along, plot-wise, as best I can!**

**As always, my heartfelt thanks go out to each and every one of you for taking the time to read, follow, favorite, and review this story so far (and special thanks of course to last chapter's reviewers: Ineveryfandom, Hope10, Loving Liar, Princess1, Warriorqueen, Lady Bird, LucyHeartFeelMeUP, and LiLuLo12)! I appreciate your lovely words of encouragement and support far more than you know, and I truly do hope that you enjoyed this chapter every bit as much as you did the last! After all, up next is the actual phone conversation with Ava and Jason. Bum bum bum…**

**Until next time, my angels…**

**MOMM**


	18. Chapter 18: Lost and Found

"You okay?" Jason inquires, the obvious concern in his tone apparent, even though I cannot see the expression that likely goes along with it first-hand, "Your text was—unexpected."

"Define okay, and maybe I can give you a decent answer to that," I reply, turning around so that I can lean against the edge of my father's desk, while the hand that is not holding the phone like a lifeline to my ear curls around my midsection as though it might function as some sort of protective shield, "Remember when you used to say everything happens for a reason?"

"Considering I said it a lot, yeah."

"Can you think of _any _possible reason for life to be kicking my ass?"

The short laugh that echoes across the line in response to my remark causes my lips to turn up just a bit, even in spite of my rather downtrodden mood, my eyes tracing idly over the various framed photographs lining the walls of my father's office without really seeing them at all. Of course, I could probably identify them with my eyes closed, seeing as Spencer, Melissa and I feature in at least a good three quarters of them by default. But just before I can narrow my eyes and try to determine exactly when the central photograph hanging above the table that holds various legal references I don't even want to contemplate cracking open, Jason finally replies, his voice once again garnering my attention while my teeth come out to worry at my lower lip.

"You do anything to piss off the universe, and screw with your karma?"

"Jason, I'm being serious—"

"I know. And if you're talking about what happened with Ali, that wasn't your fault, and you know it."

"But it's more than that," I protest, pushing away from the edge of the desk, and taking up the act of pacing the floor in spite of the muted creaks that the floorboards give off in response, "It's school, and home, and—_everything_."

"Everything," Jason repeats, a soft huff reaching my ears, and giving me the sudden and inexplicable sensation that he is likely pausing to drag a hand through his hair before going on, "You want to be more specific about that, or should I just start to guess?"

"It's—"

"Complicated?"

"You could say that."

"Well last I checked, complicated never really scared me all that much. With Ali, I think I kind of got used to it."

"You and me both," I agree, stopping for just long enough to trace my fingertip against the outline of a picture frame housing a photo of Melissa, her ex-boyfriend Ian, and our parents at her graduation ceremony from high school, "She never was one for living a quiet life, was she?"

"That would be the understatement of the century."

"Sometimes I _really _wish that it wasn't."

"Why is that?"

"Because maybe if it wasn't, we—none of us would be in the position we're in, now."

As I might have predicted, Jason remains silent in the wake of my abrupt confession, guilt swamping me almost immediately as I realize he has probably interpreted it to mean I blame Alison for everything going on in my life _now_. Of course, I don't. I can't. Not really, no matter how much easier it might be for me if I did. But before I can make any attempt at rectifying the situation, Jason takes the liberty of doing so, himself, the utter lack of judgment in his tone surprising me, to say the least, though it also does a fair share of good in alleviating my guilt.

"I think you're right. We wouldn't be." He begins, the slightest hint of hesitation giving me every reason to believe he is doing what he can to determine the best turn of phrase to prompt me to be more forthcoming, "Maybe things would've been a bit easier."

"How so?"

"Come on, Ava, you know what I mean. Easier for _us_."

"You mean in an alternate universe, where we didn't have to lie about what we had?"

"Maybe even about something that's not stuck in the past tense."

"Jason—"

"But your parents prefer Noel Kahn to the likes of me."

"No. No, not in the slightest," I argue, my reply far more vehement than it probably needs to be, though I really can't find it within myself to care in light of my most recent encounter with Noel, himself, "Jason, there is _nothing _going on there. Trust me."

"So, he's one of the—complications."

"God yes."

"Want me to kick his ass?" Jason inquires, the suddenness of such a response provoking a laugh, even though I know I really have no right to be so amused, "He seems like a guy that needs to be taken down a few pegs."

"If only it were that simple."

"It could be."

"No, Jason. I can't ask you to do that," I insist, padding back towards my father's desk, and this time choosing to maneuver my way around it so that I can take a seat in the oversized leather swivel chair that rests beside the wall, "And before you say it, it's not because I'm trying to protect him. I'm trying to protect _you_."

"What on earth do I need protection from, Ava? I'm hardly afraid of some beefed-up jock."

"That's not why I'm trying to protect you."

"Then why?" Jason asks, concern once again creeping back into his tone, and consequently causing me to flush a bit in response, "What the hell has you so scared that you can't let me in?"

Unbidden, my mind strays back to the text from 'A'—the one with the photo of Jason, and the taunt of using him against me in some way. I know that I cannot risk that, no matter how I might wish that I could be selfish and divulge every single thing that has been going on these last few weeks just to get it off my chest. And so, instead of being completely forthcoming, I remain silent for another moment or two, instead, the effect being that I register another soft sigh from Jason's end of the line before he takes my silence as leave to speak once again.

"What would you say to a weekend away from it all?"

"What?"

"You heard me. You—me—junk food, and whatever lame, girly movies you want. To get your mind off of everything for a bit, if nothing else," Jason explains, the offer honestly intriguing me, though a part of me still remains hesitant, as though I fear some form of cosmic retribution if I allow myself to indulge in even the remotest hint of a good time. In truth, I don't really know how best to reply, especially since I honestly doubt my ability to remain silent on everything surrounding our mystery tormenter if I am with Jason in the flesh. But although I am still not entirely sure that saying yes will be the best decision, the sudden desire to act on impulse wins out over caution, my voice hardly wavering at all despite the fact that apprehension still makes itself known in the way my stomach gives a funny little lurch while I reply.

"I'm good with all of the above," I state, grinning a bit in spite of myself, and leaning forward to place my elbows on the surface of my dad's desk before going on, "But for the record, I do _not _watch any movies that could be even remotely described as 'lame'."

"I hope you can forgive me if I don't entirely believe you on that score—"

"Get some good junk food and I'll consider it."

"I think you've got yourself a deal," Jason concedes, something not all that far from relief making itself known in his reply, while I find myself giving in to the same, as well, "I'll pick you up Friday? After school?"

"Sounds good to me."

Whether I can fully relinquish my apprehension, or not, the prospect of actually _seeing _Jason again after everything that's happened is something that I hope will tide me over for the rest of the week.

…..

"So—what was that all about?" Spence asks me, her tone and facial expression making it abundantly clear she is trying to pull off a guise of neutral curiosity, even in the face of the fact that I know her well enough to see she cannot entirely be successful, "The phone call, I mean."

"Nothing important."

"Really."

"Really," I confirm, my brow furrowing just a bit as I struggle with the implication behind keeping the full details of my discussion with Jason from my sister, and the subsequent fear that if I do come clean, she may not react favorably at all, "Just um—just catching up."

"With Jason."

"Is that a problem?"

"No. No, of course not," Spencer answers, shaking her head as though I really ought to have known her answer without even having to ask, "I just want you to be careful, that's all."

"Spence, he's no Noel Kahn."

"I know that. I do. But he's tied up in—in all of _that_—"

"That?" I repeat, frowning as I watch Spencer suddenly taking a vast interest in the granite countertop of the kitchen island, at a sudden loss for words, "You mean all of the stuff with Alison?"

"Amongst other things."

"And those other things would be?"

"His own personal—drama," Spencer supplies, her eyes finally meeting mine, and widening as she realizes that, by my expression, I have clearly taken her response the wrong way, "I don't mean that in a bad way, Ava, I just—it's not like the guy didn't have issues."

"People change, Spencer."

"And some people remain exactly the same."

"So, what—you're saying since he _was_ a stoner, he'll always _be_ a stoner?"

"It's not that simple."

"Isn't it, though?" I quip, folding my arms across my chest, and fighting against the sudden surge of guilt I feel as I realize that somehow, regardless of my desire to avoid this turning into an actual disagreement, that appears to be exactly what our little discussion has become, "You know, _no one _seemed to want to see Jason for a person behind all of the 'drama', as you call it. Maybe if they had, things could've been different."

"Are you really saying what I think you're saying?"

"That depends on what you think I'm saying."

"That he is in no way responsible for his own decisions," Spencer says, regarding me with a quirked brow as though daring me to disagree with her, "Which is a load of crap, by the way."

"And it's not what I'm saying at all. I just—"

"You just what?"

"Look, is it so bad of me to just want a minute away from everything?" I blurt, startling myself, and Spencer as well, with the vehemence behind my tone, though my sister's wide eyes and almost hurt expression does not seem capable of slowing me down, "From 'A'—from our parents—Melissa—all of it? It's just—it's too much, Spence, and I can't—I can't—"

"You can't deal."

Lips thinning into a line in response to my sister's assertion, I find that I can do nothing more than manage a simple nod in confirmation of what she has said, my eyes drifting down to the granite countertop of the kitchen island as though I hope to find an answer etched somewhere upon the surface. Of course, none is forthcoming, though that realization does not provide me with the courage to stop my fruitless investigation so that I can redirect my gaze towards Spencer once again. And so, I find myself jumping in surprise as the sensation of my sister's shoulder brushing against my own registers in my mind, my teeth once again coming to chew at my lower lip while she speaks.

"You know I just want you to be safe, right? No matter who it's with, or what you decide to do about any of what's been going on?"

"I do."

"And you can talk to me about it. About A, or Jason—I won't always be this much of a judgmental ass about him, you know."

"I know that, Spence."

"Then why don't you _talk _to me?" My sister demands, the pleading nature of her tone finally giving me leave to look her in the eye, though I would be lying if I tried to pretend doing so did not end up making my guilt worse, instead of alleviating it, "Something else is bothering you, Ava. I know it is."

"I'm fine."

"No. You're not. But I'm smart enough to know when to press, and when not to, so I'm letting it go for now."

"You—you are?" I stammer, honestly surprised that my sister, the notorious go-getter, is giving up so easily, or at least seeming to on the surface, though I do what I can to avoid letting my questioning of her intentions force her to decide against leaving this be. I know she only acts the way she does out of concern. That I would have far more cause for concern if she did not care in the slightest what happened to me, or what I was feeling any given day. And perhaps that is precisely why I force myself to push past the apprehension I feel over her giving her full disclosure of everything that has been weighing on my mind, particularly as it pertains to my encounters with Wilden, and my impending plans with Jason, my expression settling into what I hope is a reassuring cast before I attempt to reassure her, every bit as much as I hope I can reassure myself.

"Of course, you are. I'm sorry, Spence. I _will _tell you everything soon, I promise. I just—I need time."

"How much time?"

"Would you accept an 'I don't know' as an answer to that question?"

"Only because I know that's all I'm going to get," Spencer acknowledges, one corner of her mouth turning up in a wry grin, and prompting one to take root upon my own lips as well, "But you're not off the hook on this, Ava. Not by a long shot."

"Neither are you," I assure, taking in her obviously startled expression, and lifting a brow as though to question if it is genuine, or simply a result of her trying to cover her tracks, "You weren't exactly forthcoming about the essay thing at first, either, you know."

"Well _someone_ decided to get into a car crash, and distracted me."

"Oh, right. I'd forgotten about that."

"Maybe we should take you back to the hospital. Get you checked in for amnesia."

Unable to resist the small laugh that breaks free in response to the quip, I allow my sister to pull me into a one-armed embrace, my head tilting to lean against her shoulder as I take the time to just focus on _this _moment, instead of all of the other ones that have led us here. Of course, I would be incredibly foolish to pretend that my eventual confession would go well, particularly in light of how I know Spencer is likely to react if she gets even the slightest hint that I am getting in too deep with Jason once again. But in spite of that awareness, I force myself to consider this upcoming weekend's temporary plans as nothing more than an attempt two friends are making to reconnect, my head lifting from Spencer's shoulder so that I can look her in the eye once again.

"You take me back there, and I won't be the only one with amnesia."

I would be a fool to pretend the laughter that overtakes us both in response to my attempt at humor is not far more beneficial for me than all the heavy conversation and soul-sharing in the world…

…

The next day before school, I find myself standing in a rough semi-circle between Aria and Hanna, my book bag slung over my shoulder while the sun warms my skin and makes it just a bit easier to deal with the magnitude of everything that has just transpired. A soft breeze rustles at the leaves of the surrounding trees, causing a few locks of my hair to blow free from the braid that hangs just over my left shoulder. And although a part of me can still register Hanna fretting about mosquitoes, and Spencer's answering retort about how attracted they are to her hair product and lip gloss, I persist in my own little world for just a moment longer, my mind straying for what feels like the hundredth time to this weekend, and what may or may not happen therein.

Honestly, I am not too sure of what to expect, beyond the obvious plans for movies and junk food that have already been discussed. Since our lunch at the Grille, and Noel's untimely interruption, I haven't exactly been able to give my relationship, such as it is, with Ali's older brother much consideration at all. And now, in spite of the fact that I know my silence will only spark suspicion from all of my friends, eventually, I find that I am doing exactly that. Wondering what Jason and I were—what we _could _be, if given half the chance.

And trying to discern exactly why such considerations have me feeling nervous, instead of as self-assured as I had once felt when faced with the idea of throwing caution to the wind and simply giving in to what I wanted for what felt like ages, at least until I am brought back to the present by the sound of Hanna's voice reaching my ears in time with the sensation of her hand coming to rest upon my arm.

"Ava, did you hear _anything_ we just said?"

"I—um—no. No, I'm sorry, I didn't," I confess, doing my best to stifle a grimace as I realize that everyone's attention is now rooted rather firmly on me, in spite of my best efforts to avoid just that, "I just—I was trying to remember everything I had to finish today before dance."

"Right. As if you don't already have all that junk itemized in your day planner," Hanna quips, rolling her eyes, and giving me a look that practically demands honesty whether I want to give it or not, "Try again. None of us are buying it."

"Bold of you to assume you can speak for everyone else, Han—"

"I think in this case, she can," Spencer cuts in, her expression coming very close to mirroring Hanna's while she lifts one hand to brush irritably at a stray strand of hair that blows across her face with the next gust of wind, "Spill, Ava. If we have any intention of getting through this, we need to do it together."

Knowing that I am not likely to get out of this while remaining set in my declaration that I was simply mulling over my list of things to accomplish for the day, I scramble around for some other plausible reason for my distraction, instead, my fingers fiddling with the strap of my book bag for a moment before I finally settle on an option that seems somewhat realistic. Before losing my focus entirely, and drifting towards my own internal musings, I distinctly recall hearing Hanna mention something about wanting to hold off on our tentative plan for a memorial in Alison's honor until we are absolutely certain she's really dead.

In spite of the fact that my silence landed me in the spotlight, so to speak, I am now profoundly grateful for it, as it gives me the opportunity to latch onto what Hanna was saying without risking a prior comment of mine contradicting what I am about to say, now.

"I think it's kind of like what Hanna said. Maybe—maybe we should wait on this whole thing until we know Ali is really gone."

"You too? Really?"

"Yeah, Spence. Really."

"Since when are you on _that _bandwagon?"

"Maybe since it makes sense," I persist, aware of Spencer's incredulous expression, and choosing to turn towards Hanna in hopes that my sudden decision to take her side will prompt her to speak up and take mine, now, "Who else would know what A knows?"

"But why would Ali do something like this? I mean, I get that she loved holding our secrets over us, but—_this_? It's sick, even for her," Aria says, something in her voice indicating that she wants to believe the best of our friend, despite past history indicating that perhaps that is not the wisest course of action, given our current situation, "Are we really saying she'd fake her own death and then torment us to make us think we had something to do with it?"

"It's _Alison_. Why wouldn't she? It'd be just like any other power trip, for her."

"That's not all that she was about, Hanna."

"Right, sorry. In her spare time, she was all fluffy bunnies, and kittens," Hanna retorts, her almost immediate rebuttal of Emily's attempt at keeping the peace prompting me to reach for Emily's hand as she flinches away from us as though she's just been burned. I would be lying if I said I did not understand where Hanna was coming from, of course, knowing full-well that Ali was harder on her than she ever was on me, or any of the rest of the girls, for that matter. But regardless of that knowledge, I am also poignantly aware that Emily did not see our former friend that way at all—something that has me suddenly wanting to make amends for my own grasp at an excuse for my silence now that I know it has caused her pain.

"Emily, we know she was more than that, trust me. And I wasn't saying what I did because I'm certain that she'd do it. I just—"

"You need a reason to explain why this is happening to us just as much as the rest of us do."

"Yes. _Yes_, Em, that is exactly what I need."

From the expression on her face, I can tell that Emily is about to reply, her hand squeezing my own as she manages a faint smile by way of thanks, but before she even gets the chance to put anything into words, the sound of a sharp snap reaches our ears, causing her to drop my hand almost immediately as we all whirl towards the direction the noise came from. A shared look between the five of us is all we seem to need, before we are all hurrying off in that direction, our bags and purses temporarily forgotten in the clearing where we once stood in our rush. But of course the source of the noise that interrupted us is nowhere to be found, causing all of us to come to a sudden stop as we cast our gaze around despite the fact that I think it is safe to say all of us know it to be a futile act.

"Wait—wait, look," Aria suddenly says, her gaze seemingly rooted upon a spot just a few feet away from us on the ground, though when I follow along the line presented by her extended hand and finger, I do not see what she does, at least not at first, "Guys, what—what's that?"

"What's what?" Spencer inquires, peering in the direction of Aria's pointing finger as well, while Emily and Hanna simply remain by her side as though hoping if they do not react, whatever the object is will simply cease to exist. A glance at my sister's face tells me she does not see what it is that Aria is pointing at any more than I do. And so, in spite of the small, cautionary voice that seems to indicate I would be far better served by staying put, I step forward, instead, my gaze trained upon the ground as I move until I see what it is that Aria noticed before any of the rest of us.

To say anything other than that the sight of the small swath of purple and white against the vibrant green of the grass very nearly paralyzes me would have been a lie, my hand shaking just a bit as I stoop to pick the thing up while bile rises to the back of my throat in the very same motion.

_Alison's bracelet_…what the hell is _it _doing here?

…..

**Hello there, angels! And welcome to another chapter (finally!) in Ava's tale! Once again, I am left apologizing for another unwarranted delay, and I hope that my attempt at steering us back toward the events of the show at the end of the chapter makes up for that delay by hinting at more action to come! And, of course, I want to make sure that everyone knows no matter how long it may take between updates, I have absolutely no intention of abandoning this story! There are far too many intriguing ideas to explore for any of that!**

**As always, my heartfelt thanks go out to each and every one of you that has taken the time to read, follow, favorite and review this story so far (and special thanks to last chapter's reviewers: Ineveryfandom, Hope10, Loving Liar, Princess1, Warriorqueen, and Lady Bird)! I adore reading your thoughts, and I appreciate your support more than you know! **

**Until next time, angels…**

**MOMM**


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